


The DHS Study

by MA477LL



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-01-20 02:47:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 43,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1493803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MA477LL/pseuds/MA477LL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane accepted Casey's proposal. This takes place four years later. Eventual fluff and Rizzles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**The DHS study (Part 1)**

**Summary:** Jane accepted Casey's proposal. This takes place four years later. Eventual fluff and Rizzles.

**Pairing** : Jane/Maura

**A/N:** Obviously, I don't own the rights to these characters. No copyright infringement intended.

xxx

CHAPTER I

Proper scientific enquiry demands rigorous hypotheses testing.

In Maura's well-ordered world there are no such things as hunches, guesses, or leaps of faith. Everything that comes to be fits within a certain probability distribution. Of course, it may not always be easy to predict ex ante the precise shape of the underlying function, or even the probabilities attached to each outcome, but Maura prides herself that she can always gather sufficient ex post evidence to get a good understanding on any phenomenon.

_Well. Perhaps not any._ She thinks as she stares at the results on the screen.

She has to submit her conclusions on gender differences in stress and copying styles in the work force to the Department of Health and Safety within a month, and she is starting to doubt that she can meet the deadline.

And that is simply unacceptable.

She meets her deadlines.

_Always_.

She frowns minutely as she glares at the computer and the latest MATLAB output. The frown alerts her to a myriad of unconscious activations in her sympathetic nervous system that are certainly not helping. She breathes in and out slowly, forcing herself to relax her posture, making a conscious effort to re-arrange her limbs, so that she sits more comfortably on the chair.

Perhaps she should amend that: She always met her deadlines  _before_  Jane.

She exhales slowly.

There is simply  _no_  understanding Jane.

And she is not sure why she is yet to reconcile herself to this idea, because it is certainly not novel.

It is irrational of her. But she is seemingly stuck. In this, and perhaps, in a number of other things in her life.

And if there was no understanding Jane _then_ , when they had been the best of friends, and Maura had daily data on Jane's behaviour, there is certainly less of a chance  _now_ , after the years apart have driven such a wedge between them. And it is not that she cares  _per se_  because Maura understands life and all its turns. She knows that low probability events that can make someone reassess all their pre-conceived notions occur deceptively often.

Point in case: Jane's acceptance of Casey's proposal.

_How is that ridiculous saying?_  She wonders as she lets out another long breath, regulating her breathing to a pattern that will help relax her.  _Liquid under the bridge?_  Surely that cannot be it. _There is always liquid under bridges. At least, one should expect so if they have been carefully planned and are not a waste of public resources._

She shrugs her shoulders.

Whatever the saying.

She is definitely past it: The shock of Jane's acceptance, the beautiful white dress, the handsome groom and lovely bride, the too-rich chocolate cake that gave Maura a horrible indigestion, and of course, the tasteful and intimate wedding ceremony.

_All of it._

Or, she acknowledges; if she is not, enough time has gone by that those events are sufficiently far removed from her present problem.

_Three years, eight months and twelve days_ , to be precise.

Not that she is counting.

Not consciously, anyway. It is just that she  _knows_. As if she had an internal clock with huge flashing red numbers tickling away in a little corner of her mind. And, in a way, she does not mind the permanent clock: it obviously indicates she has significant unoccupied brain power.

But it is not  _that_  what worries her today. It is simply that Jane is wrecking her dataset. She should have never been chosen for this study. If Maura had selected the sample-, but, no.

_No._

She shakes her head.

No, there were very good reasons to include Jane, of course. This being a study on gender differences in the BPD, and Jane being the most successful female detective by any case closure standard, she could simply  _not_  be excluded.

She already knew the detective to be deceptively complex. But this is simply ridiculous. For the past week, whenever Maura decided that she had finally uncovered a pattern in female behaviour, the extreme standard deviation around said behaviour created by the data entries from Jane's case have indicated that her conjecture must simply be wrong.

Of course, it is not just in this that Maura finds Jane mystifying.

She could never understand how Jane could so easily flip: run hot and cold, be hard and soft, speak harshly and sweetly, punch like a kick boxer and run her fingers over someone's skin with a feather touch. Maura had spent time all those years ago puzzling over how Jane could laugh louder than anyone she had ever been around but cry softer, strut around like a runway model in her softball outfit but trip all over herself in a fine dress.

How she had used to have absolutely no patience for Maura's scientific processes, but also, all the time in the world for  _her_.

How she had gazed at Maura like she was an incomprehensible puzzle, and also, like she knew precisely how all the pieces fit together.

And, of course, therein always lay the problem, Maura knows.

Jane had  _seen_  Maura.

And Maura had never been seen before. Not like Jane saw her. Not with that intense, pure clarity that reached all the corners where she had tried to hide. Not with hints of amusement, and admiration, and friendship, and she had thought, perhaps  _more_.

It had made Maura aware of just how desperately she had wanted to be seen.

And then, of course, there had been Maura's own reactions to Jane. They had been equally perplexing. She had simply been unable to catalogue the emptiness and pain she had felt when Jane had decided to marry Casey and take a leave of absence, follow him to Afghanistan.

She had not understood why, suddenly, her own job as ME at the BPD had felt significantly less rewarding.

She could not explain it to herself without examining something she had forbidden herself to think about. Self-preservation, of course, being the  _one_  thing that could acceptably come before scientific inquiry where Maura Isles was concerned.

When Jane had married Casey and left Boston, Maura had closed off a part of herself. Perhaps, permanently. It was her training as a doctor. Sometimes, she knew, to save a life, a limb must be lost. A part of the body must be shut off, to prevent the death of precious body organs. If she were inclined to analyse what had happened in those weeks after Jane's departure, she would had probably described it as her body shutting down on itself, to guarantee survival, even if what survived was slightly less than what had previously existed.

Yes. Survival and self-preservation were among the strongest forces in nature.

Survival in moving.

In moving through whatever live throws her way.

When she cares to think about it, Maura wonders if she learnt that in medical school or from Constance. Her unflappable, always composed mother, who could move through any situation without as much as batting one of her long eyelashes. Like that one time she had found Maura in bed with her room mate and asked her at what time she was meeting Garrett in the evening, whilst at the same time offering to have John drive Mandy back home.

Yes. Maybe she learned that particular skill from Constance.

And Maura  _had_  moved forward, eventually: to Quantico, where she could offer her expertise, immerse herself in challenging work without the reminder of the reprieve those years in Boston, with Jane by her side, had offered in an otherwise lonely life.

She only came back to Boston six weeks ago.

She is not sure if she knows why precisely she came back. Just that one day she woke up, filled in the transfer request form she had kept on the top drawer of her office for months, and packed all of her belongings.

She had not kept in touch with Jane or any of the others very well over the years. That was her fault more than Jane's. Jane had tried her best to keep in touch. She had e-mailed Maura regularly, sent her text messages, tried to phone her, or skype with her. She had even visited. But Maura had just been terribly busy and time had simply flown by. They had only seen each other three times during her tenure at Quantico.

Every time, it had been Jane visiting.

Every time, Maura had struggled to find a way out of her shuttered self.

A way to meet Jane  _halfway_.

She had failed every time: the problem with Maura had always been that she was incapable of doing anything in half measures.

Of course, she had known that Jane's marriage had not even made it past its second anniversary, and that Jane had gone back to Boston almost immediately, but it had taken Maura almost two more years to find her way out of Quantico and back to BPD.

She could have transferred back sooner.

They all knew it.

Still, they had received her with open arms: Korsak, Susie, Angela, Frankie, Tommy.

_Jane._

Jane had hugged her with a strength that nearly made her faint from the lack of air.

Maura had not known where to put her hands on Jane's back.

She had awkwardly patted Jane's shoulders and pushed away.

She was outwardly the same, Maura. A bit older, a few more lines around her eyes and mouth, but she was still polite, and kind, and beautiful, and fashionable, and too intelligent for her own good.

She was an  _entirely_  different person.

She was cold, and distant, and detached.

Police officers that had not known her from her previous time at BPD had immediately started to refer to her offices down in the morgue as Siberia.

Maura frowns again.  _It is entirely inaccurate to refer to the morgue as such._ The temperature in the morgue is always kept at precisely 17.6 degrees Celsius, which could in no way be considered that cold.

She shakes her head.

She will never finish this study if she keeps daydreaming like this.

She dismisses the past and focuses back on the data, on the screen, on the need for rigorous hypotheses testing.

The need to understand Jane, and maybe, in understanding Jane, understanding herself.

xxx

"Maura!"

Maura looks up, surprised. Jane is standing behind her laptop, on the other side of the high table, frowning slightly. The look on her face also reflects that hint of amusement that was never uncommon in years past.

There is also concern, or perhaps sadness. Whatever it is, it is new. Maura is not so good at reading Jane any more.

But now, she regards her carefully. Jane has aged more than Maura in their years apart. She is too thin, white hairs mixing with her dark locks. Her beauty is undiminished however. If Maura and Jane were still the friends they used to be, Maura would insist Jane let her help cover those white hairs. Not that Jane would had ever let Maura play around with her hair, but Maura would had insisted and maybe, she would had convinced her. She would had also insisted that Jane eat better, that she sleep longer.

"Are you ok, Maura?" Jane asks; her voice soft, almost timid.

"Yes." She thinks it over for a moment and nods, "yes, I am fine. Did you want something?"

"No." Jane shakes her head slowly, her left shoulder lifting, hands moving as she speaks. "I was just worried. I've been calling your mobile for the last thirty minutes or so, and you weren't answering, so I decided to come downstairs to see if everything was fine." She tries to catch Maura's eye, but the other woman still looks a bit spaced out.

"You sure you're ok?" Jane insists.

"Yes, I was just pondering whether I am using the correct paradigm in setting up my hypotheses." She explains, pointing with a well-manicured finger at a number in her computer screen.

"What?" Jane asks, confused. "Is this about a case?"

Maura finally looks her in the eye. "Not a case. It is just- well. I have been unable to obtain irrefutable proof when testing a set of hypotheses I have developed, and I am now wondering whether I should be using a different theoretical background." She nods to herself, again lost in thought. "Yes, perhaps that is the issue. I might have used incorrect assumptions in setting up my model and that is why I keep obtaining irreconcilable data."

Jane is silent for a moment. "I understood data out of all that." An eye roll and a quick smile are followed by a low, "maybe."

"Well, when I try to test a hypothesis, I must fix a certain number of things. If I allow for everything to co-vary, I could never draw any conclusions." Maura says, like that explains anything.

Jane regards her in silence for a moment, her head tilting to the side. Long dark curls falling over her shoulder. "Ok." She gives Maura a soft smile, "Ok. I see you are deep in thought in that big brain of yours."

The smile turns almost tremulous as she regards Maura.

Jane simply loves how smart Maura is. How, sometimes, she cannot follow what she is saying at all.

It is just one of the many things that had always made her feel fortunate that someone like Maura would decide to spend time with someone like her, a blue-collar hot-headed American-Italian that never even went to University. Some days, it had made her feel like she was ten feet tall, to have such a smart woman listen to what  _she_ had to say.

She misses those days with an intensity that is almost paralyzing.

Jane walks back towards the door. "I only wanted to know if we're still up to review the notes on the Martin case tomorrow. We're done upstairs, so I thought I'd go home early. Get some chow, you know. Maybe clean up my apartment a bit," She winces. "The place's a pigsty, Maura."

That makes Maura look up. "Oh. We can meet at my place if you'd prefer?"

It is the first time that Maura has agreed to go to Jane's place in all these weeks and Jane is teenage-like, over-the-top excited about it. She is trying to act nonchalantly, to play it cool. Like this is no big deal, but she knows she is failing miserably. She wants everything to be perfect.

She wants Maura back in her life.

And she does not want to go to Maura's place. She wants Maura to have an out, if she needs to leave. She knows that Maura is not yet herself around her. If they meet at Maura's, she would not have an easy way out, and she never wants Maura to feel trapped.

She had been to Maura's place when they helped her move back in.

Jane had always been attuned to all of Maura's moods. She may have possibly misinterpreted them at times, but she always noticed them.

Sadly, there was no mistaking how uncomfortable they had made Maura.

She had detected Maura's timidity around them. How rigidly she had held herself, how much energy it had obviously taken her to be around them.

On the wall, easily visible from the entrance, Jane had seen a framed picture, one that had not been there the last time she was at Maura's. It was from the day of Jane's wedding. Maura must had placed it there at some point during the months that she stayed in Boston before transferring to Quantico. It was of all of them: Jane, Casey, Angela, Korsack, Frost, Frankie, Tommy, Susie, and of course, Maura. Maura was at the end of the picture, standing next to Angela. Smiling, but staring off into space, holding herself a bit apart. Angela was looking at Maura, a slight frown on her face. All the others were smiling at the camera.

It had made Jane uncomfortable that Maura would place a picture from her wedding in such a prominent place, that she would choose that particular one. She had not dared to ask, but she had made Angela ask. When she reported back on her findings, Angela could only tell her what Maura said. "It helps me to have it there. I find it easier to be when I remember there are times and places in life."

Jane could not figure out what she may have meant by that.

Probably Angela misunderstood her.

So, yes, tomorrow she'd rather meet Maura at her apartment. She thinks quickly, trying to find a reason to avoid going to Maura's place.

"I really need to clean up, Maura, and having you visit is an incentive to do it," Jane smiles as she opens the door to the morgue, ready to leave, before Maura can change her mind and cancel on her.

"Well. I guess I should be grateful that you are considerate enough to clean up for me." Maura says primly. "Although I must say that I never noticed that you had such concerns in any prior visits."

Jane just laughs at that, happy that Maura is engaging a bit with her. That she is acknowledging they have a past together.

She raises her hands up defensively. "Ok, so that was a lie. I just ran out of clean stuff to wear and need to do a  _lot_  of laundry. So, my place?" She asks, smile big, dimples showing.

"Your place. I will bring the files." Maura agrees.

"Great," Jane smiles at her for a moment longer, lingering by the door before departing with a small wave and a quick, "see you tomorrow, then."

Maura stares at the closed door for a few seconds before she turns back to her data. Her eyes scan over the screen again. She opens the original file and runs a few descriptive statistics, examining the distributions yet again. There must be something she is missing at the very beginning, and that is why she cannot follow through, but she cannot pin it down.

It is an unpleasant idea, but she might have to remove Jane from the study, isolate her case as an outlier and exclude her from her conclusions.

Her eyes narrow as she notices something. The biggest anomaly in Jane's behaviour is under unwanted advances. One common type of stress-related problems link to such issues. Unexpected or unwanted attraction is not uncommon in the work place. Maura had not analysed that subsection of the data in detail as she had gathered sufficient evidence on that issue from the other subjects. But now that she is looking, she notices that Jane had shown absolutely no reaction to those tests. She scored a zero in all five dimensions.

"How can that be," she mumbles as she reaches for the phone.

She only has to wait a moment. "Hello, it's Dr. Isles. Could you please bring Detective Jane Rizzoli's file from the gender differences study?" She listens for a moment to the woman on the other end before thanking her and hanging up.

Throughout the three months that the data gathering part of the study had lasted, Jane had to be measured across five dimensions related to this issue. This part of the study was directly sent to them by the Department of Health and Safety, and as she had not been back to Boston until nearly two months after the start of the study, she had not really followed up on this, beyond a customary look at the instrument submitted to her office by the DHS. It covered five constructs (two non-verbal dimensions, two verbal and one physical), and each of the constructs a number of variables.

For some reason, and according to this data, Jane had flat lined in those tests.

"Dr. Isles?" Susie walks in with a folder in her hand.

"Hi, Susie, I am looking at the raw data from the study and I cannot understand how Detective Rizzoli scored a zero across all of these dimensions." She points with her finger at the data, as Susie leans in closer to the computer.

Maura reaches for the folder and shifts through the documents it contains; quickly finding the one she is looking for.

"She signed her consent to being tested on these five dimensions, but all I see are zeros. How is that possible?" She asks.

Susie eyes widen for a moment as she looks at the page Maura is holding. Then, she turns it around to show Maura what is written there.

_On being informed that testing would be carried out by Senior Criminalist Chang, subject refuses to participate in this part of the study. All answers are thus set to zero, given that MATLAB does not permit missing observations. The original scale was from 1 to 7. A zero score helps to identify these values as missing._

"She refused?" Maura asks, worried.

Susie only nods.

"But, why would she refuse?" she asks, brows drawing closer.

Susie is silent for a moment. "Dr. Isles, have you read the instructions on how this part of the study should be conducted?"

Maura stops for a moment. "Well, I looked through the instrument briefly when I took over the study five weeks ago. It appeared to be a fairly blunt assessment tool. Indeed, very subjective if I must be entirely truthful. But I do not recall anything that would explain why she would refuse to take part."

"It is really unfortunate that we have such limited resources at BPD. We should not be involved in this study. Human resources should have taken care of it." She adds.

Susie is silent for a very long time after that. Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she finally comes up with an answer.

"Maybe you should ask Detective Rizzoli?" She says.

Maura nods absently. If she must remove Jane from the study at the very least she should provide full data on her case. Perhaps the DHS, when putting together all the data across administrations, can make sense of her case, in a bigger sample.

She must complete at least this part of the study, regardless of whether she thinks it is a waste of resources.

She looks through the instructions. She goes through the list of items. It all seems fairly straight forward.

According to the instructions, the researcher must apply a number of cues in succession and repetitively over a period of six to eight weeks, and then, ask the subject to grade her discomfort on a Likert scale of 1 to 7. The researcher must also grade her or his perception of the subject's level of discomfort to each of the items on a scale of 1 to 7.

"Yes. I recall now why I thought this was a rather blunt instrument." She says to Susie, a clear note of criticism in her voice. "But we must of course endeavour to provide a full dataset to DHS." She adds.

Susie lifts an eyebrow. "It's unlikely that she'll allow me to test her."

"Yes, I can see that. I will take care of this, Susie. Do not worry. We will report to DHS that, for this subject, there was a different researcher applying the instrument. They can decide what to do with the data and I will remove Detective Rizzoli from our final conclusions. At this late stage it is the only viable solution, I fear."

"Are you sure it's a good idea for you to run the tests?" Susie asks.

Maura considers the question for a moment. "Yes. I do not see why this should be a problem. I will of course inform Detective Rizzoli that we will be carrying out the tests before conducting the examination. Do you hold any concerns about the validity of the data gathering process?" Maura respects Susie's input. Susie has a sharp mind and has always been an asset to her team here.

This is not a conversation Susie wants to have with Maura Isles, but she feels, as a researcher, she must point out that Maura is likely to be unable to remain unbiased, or what is worse, that her presence may affect the results. "Well, you are good friends with Detective Rizzoli…" she says, hoping Maura will understand without need for her to explain in detail.

"You are concerned about my objectivity. Certainly this could be an issue, but I am confident that our personal history shall not interfere with the collection of data. We have an almost exclusively professional relationship these days, but I can understand your concern that our previous familiarity could pose a problem in terms of my grading Detective Rizzoli's reactions, but I  _am_  an expert in reading body language. That should compensate any bias that I may subconsciously have."

"Well, but that is, huh. I-," Susie tries to say that the whole point is for the subject to experience  _unwanted_  advances, and that she is not sure if that would be the case here. She has seen the painfully hopeful look on Jane Rizzoli's face whenever Dr. Isles is around.

She looks at Maura for a long time in silence.

She cannot say it. Much as she wants.

If the data is indeed corrupt it will be easily identifiable by the DHS by adding a dummy variable to indicate that a different researcher applied the instrument. Perhaps, she thinks, on a completely unscientific way, this may be good for them both.

She misses the old Maura too.

"You are right, Dr. Isles. I'm sure it will be fine." She finally says.

"Of course it will." Maura concludes with finality.

xxx


	2. Chapter 2

**The DHS Study (Part 2)**

**Warnings:**  I do not want to trivialize harassment in the work place. So I am adding a warning, just in case. This story is DEFINITELY not about that, and there is nothing of that in it, but I'd rather err on the side of caution.

xxx

CHAPTER II

"What are you doing?" Angela steps into the flat unannounced.

Uninvited.

Her eyes widen in surprise. "Jane Clementine Rizzoli, are you  _cleaning_?" She is loud enough to wake the dead, or, at the very least, ancient, deaf, Mrs. Tampelli, her nosy next-door neighbour. When Jane is not feeling very kind, she thinks Mrs. Tampelli is already halfway to mummification.

"Ma! Is not  _that_  surprising. I clean every week, you know?" Jane grumbles. She points an accusing finger at Angela, "and I only gave you the key for emergencies. Emergencies, Ma! I could've been in here with someone."

"Oh, please. You haven't had anyone in here since you came back from Afghakastan and Kirikistan-, Kizykistan-, Kirkizy-, those Middle East countries Charles dragged you to." Angela answers back darkly, frowning as she thinks of that mess of a marriage.

"Afghanistan and Kyrgyzstan," Jane corrects. "And  _Casey_  didn't drag me. It was my idea to go with him." She says, voice low.

Angela knows that, of course. It does not change what she has to say.

"I don't know what you were thinking when you decided to do that, Jane. I cannot understand it for the life of me." She shakes her head as she starts moving things around the house. "My good friend Carla Talucci doesn't either, if I must tell you. Why, her daughter, Sophia, you remember her from when she was little? she had a terrible lisp?"

Jane gives her a blank look.

"Well, she's _also_ married to a man that is in the military. A nice Italian young man. Although now that I think about it, I believe his family is from  _Naples,_ " she lowers her voice as if that was a terrible shortcoming. "But, anyway,  _they_  manage just fine with their marriage, Jane. She stays in Boston while he goes to all those horribly dry places with-"

"I'm not married any more." Jane interrupts, a bit of anger creeping into her voice.

"You didn't get an annulment. In the eyes of God-"

"I'm  _not_  married, Ma!" She says. "I don't care what God or Carla Talucci or anyone else thinks!"

"Do not speak of God-"

" _Ma_!" Jane interrupts again, voice hard. There is a tremble, a rage in her voice that finally quiets Angela.

This is Jane's house, she will  _not_  accept this. Not even from her mother.

Specially, not from her mother.

They stare at each other in silence for a long time.

Over the years, silence has become their true common ground. A truce of sorts. An acknowledgement of a thousand irreconcilable disagreements past, present and future. But also, a stewing. A recess, a tiny oasis in an ocean of unresolved arguments.

They have spent almost as much time inhabiting their silences as they have talking to each other.

And Jane wins at silence. At not saying what she should say. At saying other things. Things, that almost inevitably, turn out to be the  _wrong_  things to say. And so, Angela is usually the first one to speak.

This time is not different.

She wants to question all the choices Jane has made in recent years. All the wrong turns she has taken. And for just a second, she is on the verge of forging ahead. Words full of poison rise from the pit of her stomach, rushing up until they almost choke her, colouring her neck and chest. But perhaps fortunately, they die on her throat when she remembers the anger, the tremble of a moment ago.

She changes the subject.

"Why are you cleaning on a Friday night, anyway?" she asks, hands on hips.

Jane is silent for a bit longer. Still upset with God, with Angela, with Carla Talucci and her idiotic Naples in-laws connection.

Most of all, with herself; but also: with Maura. Because everything in her life has to _do_  with Maura.

 _Crap_.

She cannot understand how or why, but the more she thinks about it, the more she is convinced that her decision to marry Casey had had  _all_  to do with Maura.

"Maura is coming over tomorrow." She finally explains.

"Is she?" Angela claps her hands together in delight, smiling brightly. Her previous bad mood immediately forgotten.

"That's wonderful, Jane! She's been so lonely since she came back home. Are you two girls back to being good friends? Did you apply those techniques I told you about from my marriage counselling classes? Some of them were a bit out there, but a few were quite useful, like the toe massaging thing." She nods to herself.

Jane blinks. "We do  _not_  need to massage each others toes, Ma."

"Well, it couldn't hurt, could it?" She asks. "Maura is the best friend you've ever had, Jane."

Jane rolls her eyes and turns towards the fridge, reaching for a beer. Trust her mother to cut directly to the bone.

Alcohol should help.

She takes a long sip of the beer and tries to shrug the whole thing off. It is always best never to let her family onto anything that is really dear to her. Angela knows,  _sees_ , enough as it is. And even if she means well, she can trust her mother to always find a way to use whatever she may tell her in some unexpected, highly embarrassing way down the line.

Jane will not acknowledge how much she misses Maura's friendship out loud. Not when she is alone, and certainly not to her mother. How she regrets ever moving away from Boston. How the time away from Maura only made her best friend even more the centre of her life. How she needs to make things work, between herself and Maura, more than she needs to keep breathing.

But some things can never be said out loud. Because voicing them breathes live into them. Turns them real. Gives them power over Jane's waking moments and sleepless nights.

"You should make more of an effort, Jane." Angela continues to nag. "She's such a lovely girl, and her family never visits."

Her mother would know that, too. For reasons Jane has never really understood, Angela still lives in Maura's guest house.

"I know that, Ma, but she keeps to herself." She tries to appear nonchalant.  _She has pushed me away,_  Jane wants to say, but instead she says, "you know she's very independent."

Angela does not reply and just keeps helping with the cleaning, applying herself to the task with her usual energy.

It is only much later, when Angela finally kisses her daughter goodbye and opens the door to leave that she tells Jane.

"You be good to Maura, Jane. You broke that girl's heart when you married Charles."

xxx

On Saturday, Maura arrives exactly at noon. She is wearing a black Chanel dress that hugs her curves without flaunting them, under a thick grey trench coat cinched at the waist. Her hair is a somewhat wind-blown, but very much in place. Jane notices that she wears it a bit shorter and with more curl than she used to. It suits her. Her cheeks are a nice, rosy pink from the low temperatures outside.

She is beautiful. As always.

Jane wants to hug her, touch her in some way, but she hestitates and the moment passes her by.

Maura looks around the flat, eyes curious, taking everything in. "I see you have not made many changes to the décor." She murmurs as she takes off her coat, a bit of humour entering her voice. Jane only gives her a small smile in acknowledgement of the gentle jibe.

Then, it is Maura who hesitates, coat in hand.

There was a time when she would have known where to hang the coat, when she would have felt enough at home to just walk to the hanger and place her coat there. A time when she had felt like she could barge into this room and drag Jane to the bathroom to change her clothes and attend a formal BPD event.

But now, standing in the middle of Jane's living room, that time feels long gone.

Perhaps lost forever.

And it is not the flat. Jane's apartment looks exactly the same, the red coach, the low table, the knick-knacks from life enjoyments that Maura can hardly imagine.

Yes, the flat is the same.

It is Maura that is different.

For whatever reason, Jane's marriage and subsequent departure made her overly conscious of places and people, of situations. Where she had been previously oblivious to many social cues, they suddenly became obvious: Impossible to ignore. She felt like she had very possibly misinterpreted a significant portion of her life.

Most of her social interactions had suddenly felt like they were based upon wrong perceptions. She had become aware of a frightening gap between her view and reality. It had made her doubt everything about her life.

She had realized that for most of her adult life, she had lived firmly inside her own head, perhaps comically unaware of the world outside.

"Here," Jane says, reaching for the coat. "Please, take a seat. Would you like anything to drink?"

Jane hates to be so formal with Maura, but she is nervous. She wants everything to be perfect. She is wearing dark blue jeans that fit her snugly around the hips and a white button down shirt over a light blue tank top. Hair free. No shoes. With Maura on her three inch heels they are almost the same height.

Jane wants to look relaxed, comfortable. She wants to lure Maura out. Out of her head, away from the wall of politeness that she is using to stay hidden; to protect herself from the shadows of pain and confusion that the years apart have thrown over them both. Obscuring a friendship that, at its high, had shinned bright enough to scare away even the demons Hoyt brought into both of their lives.

Jane had dragged Maura out once, many years ago. It had simply happened. And over the course of the years she had built the best friendship, the most meaningful relationship of her adult life, by constantly chipping away at Maura's defences, until in the end, in those last few months before her decision to marry Casey and leave, it had been Maura who had been the rock, the solid ground in their shifting lives. It was Maura who stood firm, the sounding board to Jane's many doubts and ultimate mistakes.

It had made Jane upset then, that Maura did not ask her to stay. She had waited for it, waited for weeks to say yes to Casey. Hoped that Maura would ask her to stay. Would give her a reason to stay.

It had not happened.

In her mind, it had confirmed what she could never have, and so she had grabbed onto what she  _could_  have.

She had broken three hearts in the process.

And now, now that she wants to lure Maura back into her life, Jane is not sure if she will know how to do it. This Maura is a hundred times more distant and distrustful than the old one had ever been. Gun shy from the wounds Jane had inflicted on her. Brave, gentle, sunny Maura, who had come out of her shell to befriend Jane, only to be left outside, standing alone.

It pains Jane to know this is all her doing. That she spoilt things with this wonderful woman.

She takes a step towards Maura, coat in hand, drawn to the doctor as much as she has always been.

Maura sits hesitantly on the sofa. She has read extensively about body language, and she knows what she is betraying by sitting on the very corner of the sofa, her back straight, not touching the back cushions.

She cannot help it.

She cannot stand it.

She rises back almost immediately. "I-, I cannot stay."

"What! Bu- but, why?" Jane asks, the hand that is not holding the coat reaching towards Maura, palm open, body moving slightly, unconsciously, to block the way. She looks around, as if she could find whatever it is that is amiss and fix it. As it that thing was something as simple as a chair, or a table out of place, and not four years of estrangement. "You just got here. And I-, I cleaned." She almost whines.

"I am sure you have. It is not a question of hygiene."

"Ok, then what?" Jane asks. This was supposed to be the first step in the rekindling of their friendship.

Maura becomes flustered, realizing she has made Jane upset. "I had something turn up unexpectedly." It is not a lie. She had not expected to feel so-, so...  _endangered_  by being here. So out of place. So out of her element.

So uncomfortable for not knowing what to do with her  _coat_  of all things.

So immediately thrown back into whatever it is that Jane and her  _are_ , when they are together.

She reaches for her bag and takes out a manila folder. "I wanted to come by and give you this," she passes Jane a folder with documents in it.

"Ok." Jane takes the folder but does not look at it. She is staring at Maura. "Is this from the Martin case?"

"Can I have my coat?" Maura asks.

Jane nods but does not move. Neither does Maura, and so she falls back to science: to the need for rigorous hypotheses testing.

"The folder contains information about a DHS study on gender differences on the work force. You signed up for it and gave your consent to being included as a subject a few months ago. However, you did not provide all the required data and I will need it before we can submit our results." Maura explains as Jane just shrugs her shoulders.

"This is a sensitive study, so I must ask you to read the information contained in that folder very carefully. Senior Criminalist Chang can answer any questions you may have on Monday. Otherwise, we will proceed with the scheduled tests as indicated in the information package." Maura nods her head towards the folder. "It is all briefly explained on the executive summary, but you may want to read the information about the tests. I will be conducting them unless you indicate a preference for a different tester?"

Jane nods, not really listening, placing the folder under her arm. "That's fine, Maura. Can't you stay just for a bit?" She asks, voice low, almost pleading. "I have tea, I bought the one that you like to-," she lowers her head as she corrects herself, a bitter smirk appearing briefly, "that you  _liked_  to drink."

What does she know if Maura still likes that tea?

She sounds pathetic even to herself.

She feels pathetic, but if Jane has learned something in the years apart from Maura it is this: she is not above begging. Not above resorting to any means, really.

Maura hesitates, but then, she just shakes her head. "I think I'd rather go," she says softly, dropping eye contact.

"Ok," Jane answers, finally offering back the coat. "Maybe some other time?" She asks. She is close to tears and she feels stupid.

Maura reaches for her coat. "Of course, some other time." She says, but it sounds formal. It sounds like something Constance would say.

She puts on the coat and moves past Jane.

She can hear Constance's voice.  _Move through the moment, Maura darling. It is impolite to linger_.

She hates to leave like this.

She stops and regards Jane.

Jane looks...  _beaten_. Her shoulders lowered, her face turned away, a curtain of black hair obscuring her always expressive eyes.

Then, Maura does something unexpected. It is just one of her many oddities: she almost always does the unexpected.

She reaches up. She moves a lock of black hair away from Jane's face, pushing it behind Jane's ear.

The touch is intimate: almost a caress.

It is something Maura thought was no longer possible between them, but somehow, it happens.

It feels _right_.

Uncomplicated.

She lets her fingers slide over Jane's tangled locks, her fingers tugging lightly at the bottom. When she rises her eyes, she looks directly at Jane's wide open eyes.

"Some time soon, Jane," she says as she lowers her hand even further, resting it on Jane's forearm for a moment and giving Jane a small smile.

Then, she walks to the door and without turning back, departs.

When she closes the door she stops to catch her breath. Her hand shakes slightly, and she touches it to her chest, feeling the thumping of her heart against her ribcage.

Maybe the old Maura is not buried so deep underneath, after all.

On the other side of the door, Jane throws the folder on the coffee table, the files sliding over the top and falling on the floor, under the arm chair, already forgotten. Then, she rubs her forearm, where Maura's fingers touched just a moment ago, and reaches up to move her unruly hair out of her face. A smile covers her face as she sits and lets her head rest on the back of the couch.

It is the first time Maura has called her Jane, or touched her first, since she came back to Boston.

xxx

"Rizzoli."

Jane listens intently, her face twisting. "Crap." A hiss. "Ok, we're on our way. Keep the information to the press at a minimum."

She turns to Korsak. It's only 8.45 AM on Monday morning, but they both know homicides do not stop during the weekends. If anything, they increase. People get angsty when they have time to spare.

"They have found the body of a young boy in Ponkapoag Pond. The MO appears to be the same as in Charles Martin's case," she sighs, reaching for her jacket as she explains.

They had found Charles' body in Whitmans' Pond six months ago. Since then, they had not really been able to make much headway. Just dead ends everywhere. His case one of the few they had not been able to solve. Unsurprisingly, Maura's absence had meant a significant drop in the case solving efficiency of BPD. Jane had high hopes for some of her cold cases now that Maura was fully back on board.

"Damn it," Korsak mumbles as he also stands.

For a moment, Jane turns towards the space where Frost would had been, almost calling out his name.

It is yet another absence Jane has had to reconcile herself with since coming back to Boston. In a way, her departure had started the disappearance of their small group. She only realized it when she came back: how little there was left to come back to.

She turns to Korsak with a frown. The look on his eyes tells her he knows. He sees. He understands. He misses Frost, too.

The whole damn office is full of ghosts.

Shadows of what used to be.

"Tell Frankie to join us at the scene." She almost barks.

Korsak only nods, already on the phone with dispatch, getting all the details.

xxx


	3. Chapter 3

****The DHS Study**  (Part 3)**

xxx

CHAPTER III

They take Korsak's car. It takes them almost an hour to get to the scene. The ride is spent mostly in silence except for the interruptions from both of their phones, getting updates from dispatch on who is at the scene and what little can be learned from their initial reports.

They have been investigating Charles Martin's family, friends, acquaintances, teachers, and class mates in the last few months, but with little success. Just dead ends everywhere. This may explain why. If there is some kind of serial killer at work in the area, they will need to think about this case from a completely different angle.

"You think this has something to do with Charles Martin's case?" Korsak asks as they exit the car.

"I hope not."

Korsak only grunts in reply.

It is a shitty day already and it is not even 10 am. He should had just eaten that second chocolate doughnut for breakfast.

_Stupid diet._

Maura is at the scene when they get there. She is wearing a thick winter coat and a Liz Claiborne grey wool two-piece suit over a black silk blouse and black boots. No skirt today. Probably her concession to the low temperatures and having to work in what is basically a forest. Still, she looks like she just stepped out of the cover of the latest issue of Vogue, special edition for professional women. Both the coat and the pants a perfect fit for her womanly shape.

Maura moves towards them when she spots them.

"Good morning, Detectives."

"Hi, Maura."

"Hello, doc."

It is probably just Jane imagining things but, for a moment, she thinks that Maura gives her a once-over, checking out what she is wearing. It is certainly not an uncommon occurrence between them. Maura has given her, over the years, as much fashion advice as she would want to receive in six lifetimes.

Almost without thinking, Jane smooths the lapels of her dark brown jacket, reaching up to straighten the collar of her blue shirt. She wonders if Maura remembers that she told her blue looked good on her. Or if she can tell that Jane did not iron the shirt before deciding to wear it this morning.

She rolls her eyes at herself.

Of course Maura can tell. She would be able to spot a wrinkle on Jane's under shirt from two States away.

Whether she chooses to comment or not is a different story. And strangely enough, Jane desperately wishes she did. In fact, she finds herself wishing for all kinds of ridiculous things. She wants Maura to tell her not to drink so much coffee, and to iron her shirts, and to eat more vegetables.

Maura is courteous and nice to them both. The perfect professional, as usual, but also, Jane thinks that maybe she makes eye contact for a bit longer and smiles a little more sincerely than she has in previous weeks.

The boy is young, very young; perhaps not even six. Fortunately, like last time, there are no obvious signs of sexual abuse, but still, it hits them all hard.

"So what do we know, Maura?" Jane asks.

"Young boy, five to seven years old. It is difficult to say how long he was in the water, but given the amount of ice over him, he must had been here for days, maybe weeks. The body looks well preserved, so it probably froze relatively quickly after being submerged. I will not be able to tell you much more until we gather some samples and take everything to the lab."

Jane just nods and lets Maura do her work. They have much to do and there is no time to lose, really: Identifying the boy, getting in touch with the parents, starting the interviews, gathering the initial evidence, preparing the preliminary list of suspects. It is a long list of tasks just to get started, and time is of the essence: reaching witnesses before they forget important details. Combing the area before key evidence is lost forever.

The day passes by slowly. It is terribly cold outside, by the water.

They soon get a name. The child: Matthew Parr, had been missing for nearly five weeks before an ice fisher found him this morning. It means that this is also, potentially, a kidnapping case. It does not take long for the FBI to show up. Just one more thing to deal with. Jane does not care for the FBI as a rule. But there may be young kids at risk here. She will work and play nice with any and all alphabet agencies if it brings them closer to solving the case.

She will even deal with Agent Dean if it comes to it.

Still, she prays to a god she is sure  _never_  listens that it will not. Dean is the last thing she needs right now.

It is much later when she finally gets to talk to Maura again. Her breath visible in the cold afternoon. It is the kind of day Jane loves. Cold and sunny. She turns her head for a moment towards the sun, enjoying what little heat it can provide

"He's been missing since the 29th of November. Could he have been here all that time, Maura?"

"I will not know until I can examine him in the lab."

"I know that." Jane gentles her voice, "I'm not asking you to guess, but is it possible?"

Maura blinks. "Well, considering the temperatures during the last few weeks, it is certainly a possibility." She confirms.

She points towards the water as she explains, "the ice where we found him is 12 inches thick at one end. To submerge him now, you would first need to break the ice. Then, it would freeze over the body again. Considering the regularity of the ice surface and its colour, I find that unlikely, although I cannot entirely discard that possibility right now."

She shrugs. "We will be able to tell if that was the case when we analyse the ice around the body in the lab. We are taking samples as far away as 15 feet into the water."

"Ok, that helps. Thanks." Jane looks around for a moment, "anything strange?"

"What do you mean?" Maura turns, giving Jane her full attention. "Statistically speaking, all deaths of children his age are strange, regardless of cause, in the sense that they are extremely rare. In fact, according to the latest published data from the department of health and human services, the percentage of children that die-"

"Did you notice anything out of place?" Jane cuts in before Maura can explain in detail the meaning of statistics that are only marginally relevant. "Anything that may help us start our investigation while you get the lab results?"

Maura moves minutely closer, as if drawn by... Jane frowns. By her  _heat_. It is then that she finally notices that Maura is trembling visibly.

It is mid-afternoon, the sun having shyly made an appearance hours ago, but it is freezing by the water. They have been here for nearly five hours. Jane, Korsak and Frankie have been moving around, talking to people, going in and out of a nearby cabin where the police have set up camp, analysing the scene, the cars around, talking to the people from the Jewish congregation and the equestrian centre across the road.

Meanwhile, Maura has been mostly just waiting and standing by the body, gathering all the forensic evidence around it, supervising the operation, before finally deciding how deep to cut into the frozen water around the body.

She is almost numb with the cold.

"Are you finished here?" Jane asks before Maura can answer.

Maura only nods, in this light, her face looks very pale. Her lips slightly bluish.

"Come on," Jane says as she turns towards the road. "Let's talk where it's not so cold."

"I need to get back to the lab as soon as possible." Maura says, but she starts walking next to Jane just the same. Her movements slow, betraying just how cold she must be.

"It'll only be a minute," Jane says as she steers them across the road and towards the equestrian centre. The management there has kindly closed for the day to let them use their resources. There is a small kitchenette and office area that they have been using.

Maura walks slowly, balancing carefully on her impractically high heeled boots. She feels a bit like she is walking under water. When they reach the centre, just at the door, she wobbles slightly, bumping into Jane, who has one hand on the door and reaches with the other to grab Maura around the waist to help steady her, pulling her against her own body.

They touch only for a few seconds, but it leaves Jane breathless. She is immediately concious of the soft body pressed against hers: the feel against her side of all the bumps, and curves, and bones that make Maura Isles through layers and layers of clothing: hers and Maura's. It causes an immediate warmth, a flush that travels all over her body, heating her. Her hand trembles in Maura's back as she helps her through the door, ushering her towards a nearby chair.

Jane is not sure when she become so concious of Maura's presence, but it is certainly not a novel thing. It had started all those years ago, before her decision to marry Casey, but it is like the years apart has made her starved for contact. Increasing her desire to reach out, to  _touch_  Maura in some way. Perhaps even to shake her. To make her  _see_  Jane. Accept what she wants to offer. It makes things awkward for Jane, who often finds herself aborting her touches mid-motion, not sure if they will be received in the intention they are given.

Not sure what that intention is.

"There's no tea, Maura, but I'll get you some hot coffee, ok? That'll warm you up." Jane says.

Maura only nods, smiling at Jane.

Things are more comfortable here, on the job: She knows how to behave when she is Dr. Isles, the Medical Examiner. When Jane is Detective Rizzoli.

Despite all the police around, the kitchenette is almost empty. Jane gets them two cups of coffee quickly. She sits with Maura at a table by a large window that overlooks the road. "Sorry. It's instant." She apologizes with a small smile.

Maura makes a face but nevertheless accepts the offering. Once they are seated, Maura shifts so that she can sit closer to the heater under the window, holding the hot coffee between her hands.

Her move pushes her leg against Jane's, under the table.

It creates a pleasant warmth for Maura. Human contact is something that she has always craved.

It makes Jane almost sputter the coffee she is drinking. This is the most contact she has had with Maura in-, well, in  _years_. The casual interaction almost brings tears to her eyes. The normalcy of being here, with Maura, talking about a case. It is something Jane thought she would never have again.

It is her second chance.

She is  _determined_  not to spoil it.

Jane smiles to herself a bit as she lowers her eyes and drinks some coffee. She had almost forgotten the constant warmth, the constant ache in her chest that came with being around Maura. Over the years, she had grown afraid of that ache. Of what it meant. She had thought that time away could made it go away. And away it went. Only the hole it left was ten times worse than the pain had been.

She shakes her head and drops the coffee on the table, reaching up to untie her hair, combing her fingers through her long curly locks. It gives her something to do with her hands.

"Are you ok?" Jane finally asks. "You look really cold, Maura."

Maura nods. "Yes. I am fine. Thank you."

The words are the same Maura has been using every time Jane tries to talk to her lately, but this time, there is a different look in her eyes. A hint of a smile on her lips and around her eyes as she takes a cautious sip of her coffee.

"This coffee is terrible." She says. "But it helps." She is cold. Inside and outside, and the heater, the coffee,  _Jane_. They help.

"Did you notice anything?" Jane questions, her chin pointing towards the water.

She has worked with Maura long enough to understand how unique her insights into the world are. Just like she fails to see things that would be obvious even to a kindergarten kid, Maura can see things that nobody else notices.

"His glasses." Maura says.

Jane waits for Maura to elaborate, but when she doesn't, she asks. "What glasses? He wasn't wearing any."

Maura just nods. "But the obvious depression on the cartilage of his septum would indicate that he usually did."

"Wha-. How can you know that his pet sepia was depressed?" Jane asks with a smile, purposefully misunderstanding. It is a game she has missed playing with Maura.

"His nasal septum," Maura explains as she reaches up and, surprising Jane, touches the top of Jane's nose, where it meets her forehead. "Here," she says as her fingers linger. "The slight depression there indicates that he used to wear rather heavy glasses. He must had been nearly blind without them."

Maura's fingers are cold, but her touch is not.

"Ok," it comes out so low it is almost a growl, and Jane has to clear her throat before she can continue. "Ok, missing glasses. Anything else?"

Maura shakes her head as she starts to push back from the table, her leg finally moving away from Jane's. "I should get going," she says as her eyes turn towards the road, looking at the now dying activity.

Jane is half dazed from the interaction with Maura, but she stands up and moves around the table, blocking the way. "You're freezing, Maura."

She nods. "I was out for a very long time, but it is fine. I could still feel the cold."

Jane frowns. Maura is still trembling.

"I am only experiencing mild hypothermia." Maura adds matter of factly.

"What-. Mild? Maura, let me take you home." Jane says decisevely. She reaches for her phone to call Korsak.

"I am fine, Jane. I only need to-,"

"Maura." Jane interrupts, holding a hand up. "I'm taking you back to your place. Now." Maura has not been hers to worry about for a long time, but here, now, she feels like she can finally reclaim a bit of all the ground lost between them.

"Korsak," she says into the phone, "we need to get going. Maura isn't feeling well." She pauses to listen for a moment. "We're at the equestrian centre, in the room where you had that massive burrito for lunch." Another pause. "It was disgusting, Korsak, I think your tie ate half of it." A smile. "Ok, see you in ten."

Then, Jane takes off her coat and places it around Maura's shoulders, careful not to linger. "Why did you not come out of the cold sooner?"

"Jane. This is really unnecessary, as I told you, I am only suffering from very mild hypothermia. My blood pressure and heart rate are well within acceptable-,"

"Acceptable?" Jane interrupts again. She is tempted to reach out and rub Maura's arms over both of their coats, but she stops herself. She is standing too close.

It occurs to her that is probably the perfect corollary to all her interactions with Maura:  _too damn close_.

Maura looks up at her, her eyes kind, questioning.

"Quite acceptable." Maura finally continues. She does not move away. "And I have to go back to the lab."

"Maura, you know those FBI know-it-alls won't release the evidence to our lab until at least the day after tomorrow. They'll want their team to go through it all. Mess around with the evidence."

"But I can start with the autopsy."

"Won't you have to defrost the body before you can do it?"

Maura is silent for a bit. "Yes." She admits.

"And what's the best way to defrost it?"

Maura is quiet again for a bit before answering. She can tell, from the look on Jane's face, that they both know the answer. "We should let it defrost as naturally as possible."

"And that'll take how long?" Jane prods.

"Given the current body temperature, we will have to defrost it slowly in a refrigeration unit at a steady rate. I will have to monitor the process, of course, but it could take up to a week. If we went any faster, the outside of the body would decompose while the inner organs remain frozen, and important evidence could be lost." Maura finally explains. "I have given careful instructions on how to proceed."

"I'm taking you home." Jane says with finality, moving towards the door, where Korsak already awaits.

xxx

When they reach Maura's house, Jane hesitates. She wants to go inside, but also, she wants to give Maura all the space she needs. She has to go back to the office, but this;  _Maura_ , she comes first. Korsak will send a patrol car to fetch her in a few minutes. She is about to say something. Ask Maura what to do, if she should wait for the car outside; but it is unnecessary. When Maura opens the door, she simply moves towards the kitchen, never turning back.

It is an open invitation to follow.

To step in.

To claim a space in Maura's house.

In her life, maybe.

There is nothing Jane wants more than that.

"I am going to prepare us a hot drink," Maura says. "I recently bought a blend of organic assam tea with a hint of tapioca and vanilla that should be perfect to help warm us up."

"Great."

Jane smiles with sincerity. She hates Maura's funny tasting teas but that ass-hat tea sounds wonderful right now. Anything to stay around Maura for a bit longer.

She approaches Maura. "Shouldn't you change into something warmer? Perhaps take a hot bath?" She asks.

Maura regards her for a moment in silence, her eyes taking all of Jane in. It makes Jane blush for reasons she does not want to examine.

Then, Maura blinks and smiles, "actually, a hot bath is not advisable in cases of hypothermia. Although as I told you, I am only experiencing very mild symptoms. But you are right, I should change out of these clothes." She turns slightly towards the stairs, "you would not mind if I left for a moment?"

It is rather bad manners to leave a guest alone at the kitchen when they are visiting.

Constance would not approve.

Maura frowns. She is not sure when, but Constance seems to have taken over her thoughts in recent weeks. It is something that had never happened to Maura before, this constant voice, this _presence_ , in her head. She knows she is holding on to propriety a bit too tightly, even for her. It is just another sign of how much this move back to Boston has thrown her.

She needs to stop: Jane is  _not_  a guest.

"No worries." Jane moves her hand vaguely, waving her long fingers towards the stairs. "Go put on something warmer, I'll keep an eye on the tea."

"There is no need to keep an eye on it, Jane."

Jane's smile gets a bit bigger. "I know, Maura. I know."

xxx

Maura only stays away for a few minutes. When she comes back she is wearing a thick robe over long winter pyjamas. Her feet are covered by bunny slippers with pink fluffy ears of all things. Seeing Maura in those slippers is probably the highlight of Jane's week.

Maura moves around the kitchen efficiently, serving them both tea.

"Nice slippers," Jane jokes.

Maura lifts her foot to show them off. "Do you like them?" She asks, a bit of the old childish glee showing. It reminds Jane of that time Maura intended to run the Boston Marathon wearing those ugly ass trainers. "They are very warm. I only found them on this shape, which is slightly unfortunate, but the actual design is rather clever, they are microwaveable."

Jane is on the verge of making a completely inappropriate joke about hot bunnies that she is sure will fly over Maura's head, but she only nods. "They suit you."

It is the truth.

Maura gives her a happy smile, "thanks."

"Here," she says as she passes Jane a mug, moving to stand by Jane's side, both of them leaning their backs over the large kitchen counter. Almost shoulder to shoulder. "Careful, it is very hot," Maura warns as she sips her tea.

"There's something wrong with my tea, Maura." Jane makes a face and turns her body slightly, showing her mug to Maura.

"Hmmm?" Maura leans over to have a look at it, putting her hand on the counter, behind Jane's back, her breast pressing into Jane's arm. "It looks fine to me."

Jane feels a blush steal across her cheeks but keeps perfectly still. She will not be the one to break the contact.

She will also  _not_  look down.

Fine.

Maybe just a quick peek.

"It's bitter." Jane finally whines when Maura steps back, torn between disappointment and relief, "and black." She takes a sip and points an accusing finger at the kettle. "What was it called? Ass tea? It certainly tastes like it."

"Assam tea." Maura corrects. "And it is supposed to be black. I can give you more sugar if you want."

Jane shakes her head, still pouting.

Maura takes another sip of her tea to hide a smile. Then, she turns to look at the clock. "I guess you need to get back to the office?"

"Yeah. You know that we always get the best leads and evidence while the case is still hot." She winces as she thinks of the frozen boy, putting the mug on the counter and reaching up to rub her face. Jesus. "Not hot. You know what I mean."

"Of course." And Maura does.

Jane grabs her coat. Something in her expression switching, becoming entirely focused.

Maura knows it has started: the burn, the pushing. The drive to find out what happened, to give rest to loving family members, to solve the case and catch the bad guy. Jane needs to know what happened, she needs to understand who saw what. Make sense of it all. Talk to the witnesses, puzzle over all the evidence. Figure out how and why little Matthew ended up in the freezing water when he should had been getting ready for Christmas, waiting for Santa to bring him his presents.

"The team is so much better with you here, Maura." Jane says abruptly. She means it, with Maura on their team, they are very nearly invincible, but she means also so much more. She looks away as she puts on her coat. "I'm really glad you're back in Boston."

There are many reasons why she is happy Maura is back. She is just not ready to say everything yet.

"Me too, Jane." Maura nods at the taller detective. "I will write my preliminary report based on my observations at the scene and send it to you as soon as possible. Will you call me later if there are any leads?" Maura asks as she walks Jane to the door: the patrol car is already waiting outside. She puts her hand lightly on Jane's elbow as the other woman walks through the door.

"Sure, I'll keep you updated." Jane steps outside and signals to the uniformed officer. "Thanks for the ass tea."

Maura smiles. " _Assam_  tea."

"That's what I said."

xxx


	4. Chapter 4

**The DHS Study (Chapter 4)**

xxx

CHAPTER IV

Jane calls her later that night to check on her, still worried about how cold Maura had been.

"Hey, Maura. It's me, Jane."

A pause. "Jane. Hello."

Jane hates that Maura sounds so surprised. "Hi," she says, voice low, tired.

There is a small pause. A second of adjustment. It has been years since they called each other this late at night.

Jane had not really thought about it before calling Maura. It had been instinct. It is, after all, the one thing that has never failed Jane in all these years: her instincts. But now, listening to the silence stretching across the line, she wonders if she should have not called.

But no,  _no_.

Her gut is right: this is another important step towards normalcy.

_Their_  normalcy.

"Did you make any progress with the case?" Maura finally asks. Her deeply ingrained manners helping her be the one to break the silence.

"Not really," Jane says, relieved that Maura is talking. "Frankie identified a couple of potential witnesses, but we haven't got much to go on. The parents were devastated." A tiny hitch in her voice indicates how badly it must had been. Maura can sympathize. She knows how these things go down with families. "They were almost incoherent, Maura." She sighs as she recalls the Parrs, their grief, the picture they had brought with them of a vibrant tow-headed boy with big lime-green glasses, hugging his football. "You were right, by the way, Matthew wore prescription glasses to correct his hypermetropia."

Another silence.

"I-, I just wanted to know if you are ok, Maura." Jane says. "It was really cold by the water and you looked a bit like a grey popsicle."

"I am fine, Jane, although I think I resent the resemblance."

A soft laugh. "Ok." A breath. "I should let you rest. I-, well, I'm glad you're feeling better, Maura." There is no answer, so she rushes a bit after that, "I'm just going to close things here and go home."

"Have you had anything to eat all day?" Maura asks suddenly, before she can think of all the reasons why she should not pursue this line of conversation. "I have some vegetarian lasagne cooking in the oven. It may not be as good as your mother's, but I found this new recipe on the internet last month and I have been meaning to try it out and-"

Jane interrupts, "are you inviting me to come over?" She curses herself silently. She is too eager. Interrupting all the time.

"Well, if you would not mind trying a new recipe, then, yes." And then, reassuring perhaps both of them, " _yes_."

"I'll be there in twenty."

The line goes dead before Maura can respond. Before she can change her mind.

Jane is closing off her computer, reaching for her keys, and putting on her coat before Maura, across town, hangs up the phone.

_Too damn eager, Jane_.

xxx

It is not comfortable, because this is something they did when they needn't think about how to behave around the other.

When they could just  _be_  Jane and Maura.

But the awkwardness, the stretches of silence, the difficulty in meeting each others' eyes: They do not matter. It is the best time either of them has had in a very long time. Although they are stilted at times, it is not long until they find their marks. Like actors who have not performed a certain Shakespearean piece for a long time after having acted it together a hundred times in the past, they soon grow comfortable.

It is like their bodies know how to be around each other, even when they struggle.

After dinner, they sit on the sofa, almost an arm's length of empty space between them, but it is not long before Maura turns towards Jane, tucking her feet under her legs, her knees brushing the outside of Jane's thigh. It is at that point that Jane lets herself truly sink into the sofa, her forearm coming down to rest by her side, touching the side of Maura's knee, her traitorous fingers dying to caress the soft silk covering Maura's skin.

"Dinner was great. Thank you, Maura."

_I miss you. I am so happy to be here_. She wants to say, but instead, she says. "I even liked the kale you tried to sneak into it."

"There was no sneaking, Jane. It was a kale, quinoa, and avocado lasagne, and you barely touched it."

"I had double helpings of the second course."

Maura gives her a reproachful look, "I do not think ice-cream counts as a second course."

Jane only smiles and enjoys the moment. She is not sure when she figured this about herself, that eating a kale lasagne with Maura was a hundred times better than having the best meal possible with anyone else. It must had been around the time when she realised marrying Casey had been a mistake.

When she is not lying to herself, she admits that was right when she had said 'yes, I do.'

She shakes her head and regards the other woman. Maura looks adorably sleepy, with her head resting against the back of the sofa, hair a tad mussed and eyes half closed. Jane takes a deep breath and feels something twist inside her. A slow beat starting. It is the same one that seems to always be present when she allows her senses to really take notice of everything Maura makes her feel. She takes a moment now to  _really_  look at Maura, letting her eyes roam all over her form, taking her in.

_God how I have missed this._

Just being like this with Maura.

Maura is wearing the same silk pyjamas and robe from before. She is turned towards Jane, her shoulder resting against the sofa, and creating a gap at the front of the robe. Jane can see a shadow of cleavage, a hint of softness and roundness that makes her swallow unconsciously. Before she can censor her thoughts she wonders what Maura may be wearing under the pyjamas.

She is looking so intently that she notices as a small shiver crosses Maura's body and goose bumps rise on her skin.

"Are you still cold?" Jane makes eye contact, her own body inching closer to Maura's on the sofa, drawn to the doctor.

"No. I-," she runs a hand over her hair, moving a few stray hairs away from her face. She reaches with her other hand to close the gap in the robe, obscuring Jane's view and making her blush, knowing she has been caught staring. "I am fine, Jane. Just tired, I think."

Jane accepts that. "Me too. I should let you rest." She sighs as she stands, "that poor boy. Lying in the freezing water." She shakes her head as she reaches for her coat.

Maura accompanies her to the door for the second time that day.

"You will figure it out, Jane. You always do." Maura says, and for a moment, Jane sees in her eyes something that has not been there for a while.

_Trust._

Maura trusts her. It makes her feel ten feet tall.

Also, there is something else. Something old, but maybe, something  _new_  as well. Something that maybe mirrors what is in Jane's eyes every time she looks at Maura.

Hope is a painful thing, Jane knows. And for a second, she feels the sting of it as acutely as if it was a needle piercing through her chest.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Then, she nods towards Maura and walks into the cold night, forcing herself not to look back.

It feels like the temperature is higher than it was before.

Maybe it is Jane that is warmer.

xxx

Maura closes the door after her, careful to lock it.

She worries for a moment about Jane. It is a cold night and icy roads are always a threat in Boston this time of the year.

She tries not to think too much about the detective, but it is impossible.

The problem for Maura has always been that no person could truly ever hold her attention. Not fully. Her brain always working a dozen ideas at the same time.

It is why she has always found it helpful to meditate before she goes to sleep; to centre herself, but also, to quiet all the voices, all the thoughts.

Just now, she is concentrating on making herself a tea whilst she thinks about the paper she was reading before Jane called, but she is also listening, in a corner of her mind, to her favourite rendition of Casta Diva by Montserrat Caballé, and she is thinking about the latest MATLAB output from the DHS study, and the report she just wrote with the findings from the autopsy of that old lady they found the day before yesterday and who had died peacefully in her sleep, and how she needs to get the file on Charles Martin's autopsy first thing tomorrow and look at it before she can start preparing for Matthew Parr's and how she should have told Jane to drink at least half a litre of water before she went to bed.

_Jane._

As soon as she thinks of Jane, her mind clears.

The voices stop.

Even Montserrat Caballé, diva extraordinaire, knows to stop singing.

It is the most puzzling thing, really. Ever since she met her, Jane has always been able to quiet all the other thoughts on her mind.

When she is with Jane, Maura is in the now, in the present. Not lost in her mind thinking a dozen thoughts about the past and the present and the future, but  _in_  her body. She feels her blood pulsing, her lungs breathing, her skin tingling at the slightest of touches.

It is amazing; scary, but wondrous.

It is maybe the reason why she cannot keep away. Why she came back. Why it is so easy to fall back into Jane's friendship. This feeling of  _being_ , of inhabiting her own body is something she has sought out her whole life. She has achieved it at times with others, particularly, when engaging in sexual intimacy.

Maura closes her eyes for a second and frowns.

With Jane, it happens  _all_  the time.

xxx

It is a slow week after that first day. The FBI does not release any of the evidence to BPD until late on Thursday, and despite Jane's insistence and constant reminders, Maura decides that the body will not be ready to conduct an autopsy until the following Monday, at the earliest.

Much of the week goes by interviewing family members whilst Jane's bosses and the FBI discusses whom has jurisdiction over what precisely. Maura and her team spend the time preparing. Deep frozen tissues must be treated with the utmost care, she insists over and over again when she talks to Susie. The window to perform the autopsy being shorter than usual, the frozen tissues decomposing at an accelerated rate once they heat back to normal temperatures.

Jane goes by the lab every day, pestering Maura as she grows frustrated and impatient.

By Friday, she is ready to burst.

It is a truth long acknowledged by her and those around her that Jane Rizzoli does  _not_  excel at patience.

It is a good thing Maura does.

"Dr. Isles," she answers the phone without checking who's calling, focusing on the text on the screen of her laptop.

"Maura, it's me," Jane sounds tired. She  _is_  tired. It has been a long and frustrating week.

"Jane, what can I do for you?" Maura asks.

"Have you analysed the ice around the body yet?" She wishes she did not sound like a five year old on a trip asking her mummy if they are there yet every ten minutes, but she _needs_  the results.

"We are still waiting for the results," Maura says distractedly as she reads on. "I told you this," she glances at her watch to check, "twenty-three minutes ago, when you last called. Also, fifty-seven minutes ago, when you called before that. I will call you as soon as I get them."

Jane is silent for a moment. "Sorry, Maura. We're just stuck without the forensic evidence."

"I understand. But there is nothing I can do to speed up the process."

"I know," Jane sighs as she runs her fingers over her face. "Are you busy?"

"I was reading the latest issue of the The American Journal of Forensic Medicine and Pathology," Maura explains. "They have a fascinating article on sudden death by hydatid cyst. Did you know that it is commonly related to anaphylactic shocks?"

Jane perks up, "do you think that's what killed little Matthew?"

"What? Oh, no. It is highly unlikely. Commonly, people that die of hydatid cysts are in their early thirties."

"Then why are you telling me this?" Jane asks, sounding confused.

"Well, you asked what I was doing, Jane."

Jane stares at the phone in her hand for a moment, before she rolls her eyes at the ceiling and laughs softly. "Of course I did," she finally says, voice lower than before, warmer. There is something peaceful about talking to Maura. It calms her down. "Want to get a coffee? I was going to go get one... say hi to Ma. I haven't seen her all week and she has left a thousand messages on my phone." She holds her breath, hoping Maura will say yes.

Maura finally looks away from the screen and focuses on the conversation.

"Jane! it is past 4PM. I do not think you should drink coffee this late in the day!"

It makes Jane smile wider than she has all week. "See you at the café in fifteen, ok?" She hangs up before Maura can say no.

She knows Maura is too polite not to show up.

xxx

Jane reaches the café in time to see the end of it.

There is an uniformed officer. Officer Lopez she thinks is his name. He is standing behind Maura and across a deeply frowning Angela Rizzoli, who has both hands on her hips and is looking ready to jump over the counter. Maura is looking at the floor, golden locks falling over her face and partly obscuring her eyes. Lopez is laughing with his partner, pantomiming a deep shiver. It does not take a genius to realise he is implying that he is trembling because of the  _cold_  that comes off Maura.

Jane knows the officers have taken to calling her lab Siberia, and that they like to joke about how everything freezes around the doctor. She had not realized they were doing it _in front_  of Maura.

"Hey, Maura," she says. "Ma," she acknowledges the older woman. "Officer Lopez," she says as she reaches around Maura and grabs the man firmly by his tie, pulling. "You cold?"

"No-, no, I was just-" he starts to stammer, his face quickly losing its joviality as he bends his head, pulled down by the force Jane is exerting.

"It's kinda cold outside," Jane says. "Just a crappy day, really. You should tighten your tie before you go out, you know?" Her voice is low and hard; face grim. The dark edge of danger that is always with her more obvious than ever.

She reaches with her other hand and tightens his tie until it is nearly strangling him. Then, she lets go of the tie and pats his chest. "That should do. Gotta be careful not to catch a cold, what with the weather being what it is." She smiles at him.

_Daring_  him.

"Ugh. Thank-, thank you, detective Rizzoli," he croaks. His voice sounding funny as he struggles to breathe. Face quickly growing red.

His partner, another young uniformed officer that Jane has never seen before, finally reacts. He comes to his rescue. "We were just leaving," he says as he pushes Lopez towards the door. Then, he touches his hand to the brim of his hat in a show of respect. "Detective Rizzoli," a nod, "Dr. Isles," another nod, "Ms. Rizzoli," and with a final nod they are both gone.

A silence fills the café that speaks loudly to all who are present.

Jane stares around and makes eye contact with every single man and woman that dares to meet her eye.

Not everyone does _._

A few stand up and leave the café, not wanting to be associated with this incident in Jane's mind.

There will be no disrespecting Dr. Isles. Not unless the joker is willing to take on Jane Rizzoli.

"Jane," Maura calls softly as she grabs her by the elbow. There is a lovely blush covering Maura's face and chest. She knows what Jane just did. She has never been as oblivious as others would like her to be.

Jane is tense under Maura's fingers. Still ready to confront anyone that would dare ridicule Dr. Isles.

Maura pushes her body into Jane, rubbing Jane's arm and using her whole body to subtly guide her towards a table.

After a moment, Jane lets herself be led and turns to Maura as she sits down in one of the three stools placed around the table.

Maura is wearing a deep blue dress that stops at the knee and that looks like it has been painted on. Not much is left to the imagination. And Jane has discovered that she has a  _vivid_  one where Maura is concerned. The cut of the dress shows a bit more cleavage than Jane would ever acknowledge noticing and the three inch heels she is wearing make her toned calves stand out.

"Let me get us something to drink," Maura says, "would you like anything to eat as well?" she asks.

When Jane shakes her head no, Maura turns and walks towards the counter, giving Jane a view from the back that is as impressive as the view from the front had been. Jane notices the sway of Maura's hips as she walks, how she smiles and gesticulates as she talks to Angela.

Jane knows she is staring.

As Maura finally turns with a coffee in each hand, Jane catches Angela's knowing look over Maura's shoulder.

_Busted._

She blinks hard and turns to look at the table.

There are two free stools on Jane's table, one across from her and the other to her right. Maura chooses the latter one, her legs immediately pushing against Jane's under the table.

Once she hands Jane the coffee, she reaches with a hand to cover Jane's right forearm.

"Thanks," Jane says as she takes the coffee.

"No," Maura shakes her head and makes eye contact, her thumb slowly caressing Jane's arm. "Thank  _you_."

"It's ok, Maura. He was just being an ass." She is tempted to say something else, but she refrains in the end. Not sure what she wanted to say anyway.

Jane is deeply aware of all the places where Maura is touching her. Her thigh, her forearm. She feels a slight flush travel over her body. Not for the first time, she is thankful for her dark colouring. She knows it will hide the flush. Perhaps not from Maura, the other woman notices  _everything_  after all, but at least, it will from any curious eyes looking at them.

She takes a sip. "Ugh, Maura, this is decaf, isn't it?"

Maura just winks at her and gives her a happy smile, taking a sip of her own coffee.

xxx

It is not long before Angela walks to their table. "Jane, I'm glad you told off that man," she says loudly. "Such an unkind fellow. In fact, you should had also tightened his belt! Cut off the blood flow to his bal-"

"Ma!" Jane cuts in.

"What?" Angela says, blinking innocently.

"Can you not be so gross, Ma?" Jane hisses.

Maura pipes in. Always helpful, "actually, cinching his belt tighter would not really deprive his sexual organs from much blood, Angela."

Jane just covers her eyes with both hands. "Jesus."

"Why not?" Angela asks. Curious.

"Really?" Jane interrupts. "Ma, can you please,  _please_ , let us have a coffee? We were going to talk about a case."

"But I specifically told you that I do not have any new results from the Parr case, Jane." Maura says, confused.

"Not that case, Maura," Jane says quickly. "Ma?" she asks again, eyes pleading.

Angela gives her daughter a moody look. "Fine! I know when I'm not wanted by my own children," she huffs and with a smile towards Maura and a frown for Jane, she finally departs.

"Jane, that was rude. Your mother was just curious." Maura says. "I can understand why. There are many misconceptions about how blood flows to sexual organs, I could have educated her on the topic. I have read quite extensively about arterial blood flow."

"Can we never talk about sexual organs when my mother is around?" Jane pleads.

"I do not see why not, Jane. She had three children, I am sure she is well informed on sex-"

"No, no,  _no_." And she would add another ten no's if she thought that would help. "No sex talk about or around my mother." A wince. "Ever."

Maura regards Jane with amusement for a bit.

"But she is not here any more." There is something  _seductive_  about how Maura says it. Something provocative and dangerous.

Jane blinks at her. At a loss for words. She is not sure what the danger is, but there is danger in Maura's eyes right now.

"Blood flowing to sexual organs is what causes excitement both in men and women, Jane," Maura adds. "Indeed, case studies on this topic demonstrate that the pulsing on the clitoris that women describe when they are excited is entirely caused by blood flowing to female genitalia."

"Maura," Jane warns, her voice so low it is hard to hear it.

"Female sexuality is such an interesting topic," Maura says excitedly. "Recent research by the University of Washington indicates that women can get sexually stimulated by touches placed in a wide variety of places across their bodies," as Maura explains, she moves her foot under the table, slowly brushing it up Jane's calf with the top of her heeled foot in what feels like an intentional caress.

At the touch, Jane jumps a foot in the air and drops most of the coffee all over the front of her shirt.

"Crap!"

Maura quickly grabs some napkins and tries to help, her hand moving over Jane's chest, fingers sliding lower, towards her right breast, and at one point, entirely cupping it with one hand as she tries to use the napkins to absorb the coffee with the other.

Jane is too stunned to do much more than open and close her mouth like a dying fish, a fierce blush covering her features and reaching all the way to her ears. She is as well as paralysed, that is, until Maura's thumb runs repeatedly over what is a very obviously aroused nipple.

"Enough!" she almost shouts as she hastily removes Maura's hands from her shirt. "Thanks, Maura," she says as she steps back.

Her own hands shake as she runs them over her ruined shirt, trying to smooth down her nipples in what she hopes is an inconspicuous way.

She is flustered, and embarrassed, and aroused, and blood is flowing to places south of her chest, and her damn nipples are clearly visible through the stained shirt.

_Down, Rizzoli._ She curses her body for reacting so violently, so obviously for Maura's keen eyes to see.

"I-, um," she shakes her head, not daring to make eye contact, letting her hair cover her face, "I'm going to go change, ok. See you later, Maura."

Jane Rizzoli does  _not_  run away from anything.

She  _walks briskly_ towards the elevator.

xxx

 


	5. Chapter 5

**The DHS Study (Part 5)**

xxx

CHAPTER V

Both Jane and Maura work hard the following week, and when they see each other, they are too busy with the case to be really embarrassed about the 'nipple-mocha incident,' as Jane has started to refer to it in her own head.

That is, until late on Thursday, when Jane goes by Maura's office, frustrated by their lack of progress.

According to Maura, Matthew Parr had died of a single blow to the head. There was no water in his lungs, so he had not drown. He had not been molested before dying. That had been a relief to everyone. The murder weapon had not been found yet, but Maura thought it could had easily been one of the rocks lying around the pond, given the shape of the head injury. A forensic team had combed the area, and now Maura had dozens of stones to analyse.

"Are these the contains of the ice?" Jane asks, pointing at a table covered with a white plastic sheet and a number of objects of different sizes and shapes.

"Yes, Susie has sorted them chronologically. You can see the markers on the top side with our estimates for when each layer was created." Maura explains.

It had been a slow and tedious process, but they had finally been able to melt all the ice and retrieve the items that had been captured in the water as the ice formed. They may contain important clues as to what had happened. According to Maura, Matthew had likely been in the water since the week when he disappeared, although she could not narrow the window to precisely which day.

Jane scans the contents of the ice. Right at the end, something catches her eye: a bit of green plastic. She points to it. "Maura, what's that?"

Maura moves towards the table to see what Jane means, brushing against her and making Jane take a small step back. "I am not sure," she says. It is a small, slightly bent, square of plastic, no bigger than 60 millimetres at its larger side, with a rounded end on one side and a jagged one on the other. "This was right at the bottom of the ice. I think we may have broken it off when we excavated the ice. Plastics are partially crystalline in molecular structure. At such low temperatures a natural cut would had been cleaner."

Jane frowns. "So the rest of whatever this is could still be in the ice?"

"It is certainly possible. Do you think it is relevant to the case?" Maura asks.

"Maybe. Can you send a team to see if they can find it?"

"Of course," she takes off her gloves and reaches into the pocket of her black scrubs for her phone. "Let me text Susie, she can take care of this."

"Ok," Jane sighs. "This is a frustrating case, with the forensic evidence coming back so slowly." She rubs her hands as she talks. "We've been able to piece together the last few hours of Matthew's known whereabouts. He was supposed to be twenty miles away from that pond." Jane explains. "Korsak and Frankie are following up on a few leads, but I don't really want to bring in people until we have more information. I hate interrogating suspects when  _I_  don't know any of the answers to the questions we are making."

Maura nods and again moves closer to Jane's right side, to look at an item on the table, her shoulder brushing Jane's chest and making Jane jump back, startled.

Maura regards her inquisitively. "Are you all right, Jane? I never asked, did you get a burn from the coffee that you dropped?" Maura asks with some concern as she stares at Jane's chest and rises her hand as if she is going to touch Jane again. "The skin of the areola is particularly sensitive."

"What?" Jane blinks and has to consciously tell herself to keep her arms at her sides and not try to cover her chest with them. "No, it was not that hot."

That makes Maura smile. For a moment, she is tempted to attempt a joke, but she is not entirely sure of the colloquial use of the word 'hot,' aside from her dealings with Giovanni, and so, in the end, she just nods. "I thought it was not a worrying temperature when I tried to help. That is why I had not followed up on this sooner," Maura explains. She does not want Jane to think she is not concerned for her.

"Yeah, well, let's never talk about this again, ok? I cannot believe I threw that coffee on myself in front of all those cops." She groans. Not to mention her Ma, who had been watching them like a hawk.

"There is nothing to be embarrassed about, Jane, the tissue of your mammary glands is very dense and you have well developed pectoralis muscles," Maura says smiling towards her, and Jane thinks, sneaking yet another look at her boobs.

Jane is stunned for a moment. "Is that your scientific way of saying I have a nice rack?"

Maura tilts her head slightly to the side, narrowing her eyes a bit. "Rack? I meant to say that you have very nicely formed breasts. Indeed, anatomically speaking, you are a very fine specimen, Jane. Your bone structure and musculature are exceptional."

A hasty gulp, a bark of laughter and a roll of eyes later, Jane finally replies. "If this is how you try to woo a girl, I think your game needs fine tunning, Maura. Not sure it'll work on most of them."

It is a lie, of course.

It  _totally_  works on Jane.

"But, Jane, why would I want to woo a girl? I am 42 years old. It is very unlikely that I would be interested in anyone half my age." Maura says, confused. "Extant research on the topic would suggest age disparity in sexual relationships is likely to lead to lower satisfaction."

"What-, no. No. I wasn't trying to imply that you were a cougar, Maura."

"Of course not. Don't be ridiculous, Jane. Why would anyone suspect me of being a mountain lion?" Maura frowns adorably, crossing her arms and making her scrubs top shift over her shoulder, a lacy black strap showing.

Jane hates herself for noticing. For imagining the _rest_  of the bra. For letting her eyes roam over Maura's neck, her pinned up hair, and the few blonde tendrils that have escaped her ponytail. For wondering how her skin would taste like. For wanting to reach out, move that bra strap out of the way and kiss Maura's creamy skin.

She rubs her forehead wearily. Talking to Maura takes _all_  of her mental power and Jane is really not on top form.

She makes a face. "Maura, I-, well, I guess I just wanted to apologize, really."

Maura blinks in surprise. "Why?" She uncrosses her arms and takes a step towards Jane, reaching for her arm.

Jane flinches at the touch, making Maura also flinch and drop her hand.

"No. Wait." Jane says as she reaches for Maura's hand.

"I'm a bit embarrassed by what happened last Friday, ok? you know-, when you-, when you touched my-, when you were helping with the coffee," Jane cringes at her inability to say the words. Then, she squeezes Maura's hand, her thumb running over the back of it as she finally dares to make eye contact. "I'd really hate it if you thought I'd done something inappropriate, Maura."

Maura is silent for a moment, and Jane can almost see the gears turning in Maura's brain as the doctor goes over the events of the past Friday, trying to understand what precisely Jane may be referring to. Maura recalls Jane's actions and words, how she had grabbed officer Lopez by the tie and told him not to make fun of Maura ever again, only without having to actually say it. How she had stared down every single cop at the café. Jane defending her like that had given Maura feelings that she had struggled to categorize. She had spent most of the weekend thinking about it. In the end, she had decided just to enjoy how happy it had made her, and not to over think it. The only conclusion she had really reached was that Jane's behaviour probably had to do with that intangible thing Jane liked to refer to as 'having each other's backs.'

Jane can easily see in Maura's face the moment when she finally understands.

The thing is, Maura  _always_  understands, just not often at the time when Jane would want her to.

"You are referring to your nipple erection?" Maura finally asks.

Trust Maura to cut right to the heart of the matter and to find the most embarrassing way to do it.

If Jane has ever blushed harder than she is right now, she cannot remember it.

"Yeah," she finally mumbles as she shrugs her shoulders.

"But, Jane, you should not worry about that. The erection of nipples is due to the contraction of smooth muscle under the control of the automatic nervous system. It is akin to a hair follicle standing on end." She says as if that explains anything.

At Jane's look of confusion, Maura does something completely unexpected, she turns Jane hand in hers and places it on her own chest. "See?" she says as she presses Jane's hand to her breast and Jane feels the nipple underneath tightening. "Nipple erection can be caused by a tactile response in both males and females, it is nothing to be embarrassed about."

If Maura's voice is a little breathy, Jane is too busy doing cartwheels in her own mind to take notice.

And Jane's mind is a mess of thoughts, really. Chief amongst them is a voice shouting "Jesus Christ," at approximately the same decibel level as the Concorde taking off. Maura's breast is hard, and soft, and rounded, and really quite a bit larger than Jane's own breasts are, and _oh my god_  Jane can feel her nipple.

There is this incredible heat that travels from Jane's hand, up her arm, and hits her chest with the force of a two-by-four, leaving her gasping for breath.

"Dr. Isles?" Susie Chang walks into the lab, "we have some puzzling results-," she blinks as she takes in what she just saw, "-from the ice," she trails off. Was that Detective Rizzoli's hand on Dr. Isles' breast?  _Surely not_. "Do you want me to come back later?" She blinks at Jane's scowl, taking an inconspicuous step to the side, moving closer to the door. Just in case.

"No!" Jane squeaks out. "No. I was just leaving. I'll let you two work. We need those results as soon as possible."

"Jane-," Maura starts.

"Maura," Jane interrupts. "It's fine. I'll call you later if there are any breaks in the case."

With a parting glare for a still blinking Susie, Jane leaves the morgue.

xxx

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Korsak finally asks.

"Huh?" Jane says stupidly.

"Precisely," says Korsak. "Your head's not in the game, Jane," he says around a large bite of his burger. "You're distracted."

She glares at Korsak. If she is, she certainly will  _not_  admit it.

And she is, because she just had her damn hand on Maura's breast. And it had felt wonderful, and she must remember to go to church this Sunday to say thanks, because it must had taken the intervention of the Holy Spirit not to freaking squeeze her fingers and push Maura against the wall.

So what if she is distracted. She is almost proud of herself that she is not sitting on the floor in a puddle of her own drool, because that is really how she feels right now.

She wants to talk to Maura, explain things. Let her know she wants what they had before, but also, _more._

She frowns. If she can grow some balls, anyway.

The trouble is that if she has learned anything from the absolute debacle that was her marriage and all the events that followed, ending up with the nipple-mocha series, is that there is no way  _she_ can go back.

It is not Maura.

It is Jane.

Maura had always touched her in slightly inappropriate ways, always stood too damn close. And it was never truly all right, but Jane had grown used to it. Like that frog metaphor... throw one into water that slowly heats, and it will get used to the scorching heat, die slowly in the water. Throw one into already boiling water, it will jump out.

She is that frog.  _Frog face Rizzoli._  Thrown into boiling waters that she cannot negotiate without acting like an embarrassed teenager with a raging girl crush.

She runs her fingers over her long wild hair, pulling it back from her face.

"I was thinking about some evidence Maura found in the ice," she finally says. She winces as she looks at Korsak. "Can you _please_  close your freaking mouth when you chew?" She grumbles. "And wipe your mouth, for heaven's sake."

"Well, excuse me, Miss Manners," Korsak says, unrepentant. He cleans his mouth with the back of his sleeve and raises his eyebrows as he looks at her over his glasses, gently amused. Jane Rizzoli is a good egg; brave and honest and hard-working and a true damn hero. The best partner he's ever had. "What evidence?"

"A bit of plastic, green plastic." She digs around her table, pushing away the container with her mostly untouched dinner. "Here," she says as she passes Korsak two pictures. In one, there is the piece of plastic; the other is a picture of a smiling Matthew Parr wearing big lime-green glasses.

Korsak reaches for the pictures, regarding them quietly side-by-side as Jane continues speaking.

"I think it's a part of his glasses, we didn't find them with the body, and according to his parents, Matthew saw very little without them."

"You think they are at the bottom of the lake?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Korsak nods as he passes back the pictures, "why would that be important?"

Jane shrugs. "I don't know, something has been bugging me about this case. I know there are some similarities with the Charles Martin case, but we haven't really been able to draw any meaningful links between the two. I don't know. Maybe they're not related," she shakes her head. "Just a hunch."

Korsak only nods. He does not say anything. There is no need; it is their code, they follow up on each other's hunches.  _Always._  No questions asked. It has saved both their lives more than once.

"I've been following up a bit on the Parrs. I thought she was quite a bit younger than the husband." Korsak says.

"Yeah," Jane says. "Smelt of second marriage for him."

Korsak nods and passes Jane a folder. "His third, in fact. He has two children from the first wife; a boy named James that attends BCU, and a girl, named Beth. She is a lawyer in Denver."

"I talked to the boy briefly on the phone," Korsak shrugs. "I don't know. There was something about him, it may be worth bringing him in for questioning."

Jane just nods and makes a note. She will call him tomorrow and schedule an interview. "Ok."

Korsak checks his watch. It is past 8PM. He stands up, throwing what little remains of his burger into the trash.

He stretches and puts on his jacket.

Jane thinks he has had that particular jacket since she knows him.

"Well, I'm off," Korsak says. "By the way, Angela invited me to Sunday dinner," he pauses as he smooths down his tie. "At the doc's place."

Jane looks up. "She hasn't said anything to me." Of course she has been avoiding her mother like the plague this week, not picking up the phone or reading her text messages, but she does not mention that.

Korsak shrugs. "You know if everything is ok again with the doc? She is starting to be a bit more like her old self."

Jane smiles at that. "Yeah, she is."

"Well, I'm sure you're also invited, Jane. I'll bring something for dessert." Korsak says as he walks towards the elevator.

"Please, don't," Jane calls after him, recalling the caloric chocolate monstrosity Korsak had brought last time he was invited.

xxx

On Friday, they all end up at the Dirty Robber, which is now under new management and back to the old style: a dingy bar where a bunch of toughened-by-life cops can feel right at home and try to drink each other under the table.

They have two unsolved children deaths on their desks. They all need a drink before going home.

Jane is already on her second beer when she decides to text Maura and ask her to join them. She does not really bother to check if Maura answers, because these days, Maura doesn't always reply. So it is a bit of a surprise when a couple of beers later, when she stands to walk to the counter to order another round, she walks into a soft body that is suddenly blocking the way: Maura.

"I think you have had enough." Maura says.

Jane is on her way to being nicely inebriated, so she leans precariously close to Maura as she answers. Maura does not step back.

"Wanna join us for a beer, Maura? We've been really lonely without you," Jane drawls.

She sounds like she is somewhat drunk, because she is. Also, like she is hitting on Maura.

Maybe she is as well.

A lot of things have changed for Jane in these last few years. Not everything about her life is as set on stone as she once thought it was.

Maybe she  _likes_  Maura.

Although, to be honest, there is really no  _maybe_  about it.

Maura orders another round for everyone and pushes Jane towards the booth, and arm easily going around Jane's slim waist as they walk. Frankie and Korsak are already there, sitting together on one side of the booth and looking a bit the worse for the weather. Jane and Maura sit opposite from them.

The waiter soon brings their drinks.

"The last round," Maura says.

"To Frost," Korsak says as he raises his glass. It's been three years, this summer, since Frost died. Last round, always, goes to him when Korsak is around.

"To Frost," answers Frankie, taking a long pull of his beer.

"To Frost," answers Maura after a moment, taking a small sip of her wine.

Jane just sits quietly. She is still not ready to join in, she does not know if she ever will.

They all fall into easy conversation after that, even Maura joins in a bit. Although most of the time, she just smiles and nods. Happy to be amongst friends.  _My friends_ , she thinks and she has to blink a few times. That connection between her amygdala and her lacrimal glands acting up, as usual, at the least convenient of times.

It is not long before Korsak finishes his drink, makes his excuses and leaves the other three at the table. It is also not long before Frankie joins another table, leaving Maura and Jane alone.

Maura turns in the booth, "maybe we should also go?"

Jane nods. "Yeah," she finishes her beer, "let's go."

Maura ends up acting as a taxi driver. It is a short ride, but by the time they get to her flat, Jane is sound asleep, her head resting against the window. She is smiling and mumbling in her sleep. Maura regards the dark woman for a long time in silence. Jane looks peaceful, content even. It is a strange look on the always intense woman. She reaches to move a dark tendril of hair out of Jane's face, touching her cheek slightly and waking her up.

"What." Jane says as she jumps awake. Immediately suspicious. It takes a second longer than usual to realize where she is, and with whom.

She has sobered up a bit, but not much.

Maura talks to her in a low voice, her hand still touching Jane, moving another stray lock of thick hair behind Jane's ear, her fingers lightly caressing the soft strands for a moment, before dropping her hand to Jane's thigh. "We are at your place."

Jane reaches up to rub her eyes, trying to remove the bit of drool that is in the corner of her mouth as she makes a show of rubbing her cheeks. "Thanks, Maura." She is reluctant to move. She likes feeling Maura's hand on her leg.

"What were you dreaming about?" Maura asks.

"Hmm?"

"You were groaning and smiling," Maura says. "Was it a sex dream?" She asks with a smile and a hint of mischief.

This is a game they have played often in the past. "What?" Jane is not fully awake yet. "I don't know."

"It is perfectly normal to have that type of dream, Jane. In fact, according to an article I read in the Journal of Sleep and Sleep Disorders Research, around 8% of all dreams have sexual content."

Jane gives her a lopsided smile. "And what precisely  _were_  you researching on that made you read about that, doctor?" She asks in a mockingly scandalized tone.

That makes Maura laugh. "The study also concluded that sexual dreams can be caused by sexual frustration. It would be normal for you to be sexually frustrated, Jane. After all, you must had been used to frequent and satisfying sexual relations during your marriage, and now-"

"Maura," Jane interrupts, changing the mood. "Can we not talk about my marriage?"

Maura looks hurt for a moment, but she recovers quickly. "Of course, it is none of my business, Jane. I am sorry."

"It  _is_  your business, Maura, but not now, ok?" she covers Maura's hand, still on her thigh, with her own. "I'm, well-, I'm a bit drunk, and between last Friday and yesterday, well-," she is thinking about how her hand had felt on Maura's chest, how Maura's hand had felt on hers. "We really need to talk, Maura," she adds, voice lower than her usual already low register, "but I need to be completely sober for this conversation, ok?"

Maura nods, something in her eyes clearing. "Ok."

"Good." Jane says. "But we won't be talking about my sex life with Casey." Jane shudders at the thought. "Ever."

"You have always been a bit conservative about this. But talking about your sexual desires and preferences can be very enjoyable, if you do it with the right person."

"Maura." Jane warns, but there's now a smile in her eyes.

Maura is quiet for a minute after that. They are seated side by side on the car. "Are you all right going up on your own?" Maura finally asks.

Jane takes a moment to reply. It is a chance to get Maura to come up to her apartment, maybe ask her to stay the night. She wants Maura there, with her, desperately. But she is sober enough to know now is not the time. It is best that she sleeps before she tries to talk to Maura about anything. "Yeah, don't worry. I'll make it." She grins sheepishly. "Sorry we are such a bunch of unruly drunks."

"I am glad to be included in your group, you know that, Jane. Just be careful with the steps."

"Yeah. I'll see you Sunday, right?" Jane says, and Maura nods. "Ok. 'Night," and before she loses her nerve, she reaches across the seat and kisses Maura's cheek, lingering for longer than is acceptable between friends. Maura closes her eyes at the touch, turning her face more fully and managing to catch some of Jane's own cheek with her lips as Jane pulls back.

"Goodnight," Maura whispers and gives Jane a smile.

Once she exists the car, Jane takes a deep breath, the cold air of the Boston night burns her lungs, but it helps.

She walks towards her door, careful with her footing, feeling a bit more drunk than she should, given what she drank.

She hears Maura's car start just as she closes the door behind her.

Jane is still smiling by the time she slips into bed.

xxx


	6. Chapter 6

xxx

CHAPTER VI

Jane is the last one to get to Maura's house. She is nervous as she waits at the door, wondering what she should say to Maura, but just her luck, it is Frankie that opens the door.

"Hey. You're late! C'mon, game's already started."

"Frankie," she smiles at him as she enters. He moves quickly back to the sofa, joining Tommy, not wanting to miss out on any of the action. Korsak is seated in a chair by the sofa. He raises his beer towards Jane to say hi. Jane nods back; she loves the old man.

It is only the second time they have all been here since Maura came back from Quantico, and it is a bit strange to see her brothers and Korsak so comfortably seated. So relaxed. Like this is not a momentous occasion.

She rolls her eyes at herself.

Of course not: It is only Jane who over-thinks everything about Maura, who attaches meaning to every blink and sigh. To every smile and frown. The guys just take the doctor at face value, if she has been a bit distant in weeks past and is now back to normal, they can shrug it off as just one more of her oddities and move on.

"Hey, Tommy! Long time no see," she looks around. "Where's TJ?"

"Jane!" he smiles at her as he rises to give her a quick hug, "he went with Lydia to watch a Muppet show of some kind, they should be here in time for dessert."

Jane takes off her coat and hangs it by the door. It is then that she notices that the picture of her wedding is gone. The one with all of them that had made her so sad when she first came to Maura's house to help her with the move back from Quantico. There is some sort of African mask there now. It is quite possibly the ugliest mask Jane has seen, and still, she decides she loves it there. The house feels brighter with the picture gone, the air lighter.

Maura and Angela are in the kitchen, fussing over the food. She walks towards them, leaving the men at the sofa, already enthralled with the game.

"Hey, Ma," she smiles, "Maura." For some annoying reason, her voice breaks in the middle of saying Maura's name and she has to clear her throat awkwardly.

_Nice entrance, Jane. Smooth._

"Hello, Jane," Maura smiles back, making eye contact for a moment and then, letting her eyes roam over Jane's form. "You look nice."

For the first time in years, Jane had stood in front of the mirror, looking at herself critically. She had discarded outfit after outfit, until she settled on what she is now wearing: low ankle boots, a pair of skinny black jeans that fit her snugly and a loose grey sweater with a V-neck that shows a hint of cleavage. She knows she looks good in these clothes, they bring out the darkness of her skin and hair. She is also wearing a bit of make-up, just a touch of mascara and blush, but they make a difference in already striking features. She even took the time to blow-dry her hair. It is still on the wild side, but noticeably less.

Jane cannot remember the last time she did that.

Make an effort for someone.

"This old thing?" Jane asks as she pulls at the sweater. "Nah."

Maura gives her a gentle smile. She notices the make-up, the smoother-than-usual waves in Jane's hair, the way the sweater clings to Jane's chest and stomach. Jane can feel Maura's eyes on her. It makes something inside her chest expand, words that she has not yet spoken, not even in the quiet of her own mind, claw their way up her throat.

But, fortunately, her mother cuts in before Jane can say anything stupid.

"Susie told me you two have been fondling each other's breasts," Angela says, almost conversationally.

"What! we have  _not_!" Jane gapes. Then she frowns. "Since  _when_  do you two gossips talk to each other, anyway?"

Angela smiles, "don't be silly, Jane. Susie is the nicest girl. Such a cutie. She keeps me updated on  _everything_  that goes on in the morgue." She gives Jane a stern look. "And I saw you in the café the other day with my very own eyes." She turns towards Maura as she explains, "Jane was always fascinated by other women's breasts, even as a child," she confides. "She inherited hers from her father's side of the family," Angela says as she reaches out to touch Jane's boobs. "Those Rizzoli women all had such flat chests! I think that's why your father was so obsessed with my-,"

"Ma!" Jane hisses. "Enough!" She slaps Angela's hands away before they can touch her.

"But Jane's are so nice. Just the right size, and perky, wouldn't you agree, Maura?" Angela continues, unperturbed by her daughter's interruption. Maura nods and smiles, her gaze firmly settled on Jane's chest.

"You don't want to have bigger breasts, trust me, dear," Angela tells Jane, shaking her head sadly. " _Who_  invented gravity, anyway?" She asks Maura, hands on hips, as if accusing her of having something to do with it.

Jane rubs her forehead wearily. "Ma, can we  _please_  talk about something else?"

But Angela is on a mission, now. " _These_  were really high and nice until I started having  _you_  children," she says with a frown, looking first at her chest and then, glaring at Jane. She touches her chest, adjusting herself a bit. "But, anyway, since Jane started to use those wonder push-out bras she looks wonderful, right?" Angela smiles at Maura, nodding.

"Gee, Ma," Jane whispers under her breath, "put out an add about it, won't ya."

"I think you mean push-up bras, Angela, and yes, she does," Maura agrees. "But she looked great before, too."

"I'm going to join the guys," Jane says as she turns to go, but Maura reaches for her hand before she can leave. It stops Jane on her tracks.

Maura rubs her thumb over Jane's scarred palm. The skin of her hand is soft, the new one over the scars even softer than the rest of her palm. Maura pulls gently and Jane responds immediately, her body bending to Maura's will, directed by the slightest of touches from the doctor.

Maura leans forward and kisses Jane lightly on her cheek. "Hi," she whispers for only Jane to hear, "you do look great."

"Here," she adds as she takes a step back and passes her some glasses. "Take these to the table, please? We were finishing setting everything up."

Jane trembles at the touch, at the close proximity. She can smell Maura's perfume and it goes straight to her brain, making her instantly drunk on it. "Sure," she finally says, as she reaches for the glasses, her fingers making contact with Maura's for a moment before giving her a shy smile and turning towards the table.

Regrettably, just as she finishes setting the table, she gets a call from Judge Martin, Charles Martin's uncle. He wants to meet her as soon as possible. Meaning  _now._  He has some information that may be pertinent to the case. Cursing his timing, Jane makes her excuses and leaves with promises of trying to come back if she can and of going out for dinner with Maura sometime later in the week.

xxx

Jane spends Monday and Tuesday on a wild goose chase that ends with a frustrated detective and an annoyed Judge. If they are stuck with Matthew Parr's case, it is nothing compared to Charles Martin's: they have  _nothing_  when it comes to that case.

The failure to close the cases is starting to get to Jane. She feels constantly on edge.

She is glad to be back to the precinct on Wednesday. As soon as she gets to BPD, she goes down to the morgue. Maura is in her office. She is wearing a black and blue polka dot silk sheer blouse with a ribbed collar, with the sleeves rolled up, and a pencil black skirt that kisses just above the knee. The outfit is completed by black peep-toe platform heels that bring Maura almost to eye level with Jane.

"Hey, Maura. I got your text message," Jane says.

"Jane, it's good to see you," she smiles and there is real warmth in her eyes as she checks Jane out. Jane is wearing one of her usual grey suits, this time, with a black t-shirt under it. Maura likes her in dark colours. "We found the murder weapon," Maura says as she stands. She signals for Jane to follow her as she walks towards the lab, the front of her body brushing by Jane as she walks past.

Maybe it is  _Maura_  that has Jane on edge.

She wonders, not for the first time lately, if Maura is doing this intentionally: the touching, the looks, the suggestive conversations.

And if she is, what it means.

Mostly, she wonders if she can allow herself to hope.

But hope hurts, and if it was anyone but Maura doing this she would have said something already, but it  _is_  Maura doing these things, and there is just too much at stake when it comes to Maura.

Finally, she just shakes her head and follows behind, appreciating Maura's outfit and everything it does for her trim figure.

"Here," Maura points. "It is this one."

Jane regards the large stone, "are you sure it's this one?" It looks just like all the others Maura had been looking at in days past.

"Yes, do you see this?" Maura points at a defined border, where a break along the side starts.

Jane nods.

"It is a perfect negative of the imprint on Matthew Parr's skull. Also, I found some remains of skin at the bottom of that crevice that match Matthew's DNA. We were fortunate that some water slid inside and froze there. It has kept the biological remains in perfect condition."

"I see," Jane says, lifting it in her hands to get a feel for it. "It's very heavy. Someone would have to be very strong and fast to hit Matthew with it," Jane observes as she puts it back on the table. "Why is it so dirty?" she asks, showing Maura her hands, browned by the dirt clinging to the bottom of the rock.

"We found it by the shore, we had to dig it out," Maura explains.

"What? Dig it out?"

"Yes, I wanted to be thorough, so when I could not match Matthew's injury to the loose stones we collected from the scene or the ones that we dug from the ice, I sent Susie back to collect some others around the area."

"So he was pushed?" Jane asks. "He was thrown to the ground and hit his head on it?"

Maura shakes her head. "With the evidence we have, I cannot ascertain whether he was pushed or he fell and hit the rock."

"Fell? What? He was six, Maura! Six! You think he was just strolling around the pond, on his own, twenty miles away from where he was supposed to be, and, what? he slipped and somehow fell into that rock?" Jane asks, hotly.

She gesticulates almost wildly as she makes her point, "and then, what? He threw his own dead body into the pond?"

"Calm down, Jane," Maura tries to soothe her, "I am only saying that the actual death may have been accidental. He had extreme hypermetropia, he would had been unable to focus on objects at virtually any distance without his glasses. He could had tripped and fallen into that rock without being pushed by anyone. In fact, given his body positioning and the location of the rock, he could had easily rolled into the water after hitting his head." Maura says. She shrugs as she adds, "I do not know why Matthew was there, or who took him."

Maura cannot make up evidence or interpret it as she sees fit. She can only say what the evidence says. It is Jane's job to tie all the clues together, to link them up in a story that makes all the pieces come together in a sensible, logical way.

Jane rubs her face and pushes her hair away from her face. She takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Maura. I'm just frustrated. This is the slowest moving case in the history of BPD, and I just spent two days running around Boston for Judge Martin for nothing."

Maura regards Jane for a moment. Noticing the dark circles under her eyes, the slightly slumped way she is standing.

"You look tired," Maura says softly. "Have you not been sleeping well?"

"I-, no, I've just had things on my mind." Jane says as she twirls a lock of dark hair around her fingers.

"You know doing that is a sign of sexual frustration, right?" Maura says with a wink, trying to lighten the mood.

"Don't start again, Maura," Jane groans, but she drops her hand, letting go of the hair, and gives Maura a smile.

Maura lets out a happy laugh. "You owe me dinner."

It makes Jane smile. "I do. How about this Saturday? We can go wherever you want."

And although she means it, Jane hopes Maura will not choose one of those fancy restaurants where Jane cannot understand half the menu and always ends up eating something that looks nothing like what she thought she had ordered.

xxx

On Thursday and Friday they conduct interviews. With the new information about how Matthew died, it is now primarily a question of trying to figure out who took the boy to the pond. Maura's findings narrow down the kind of questions they have to ask. It gives them an edge. Finally, Jane knows  _some_  of the answers.

They bring back for questioning their three main suspects.

At 19, James Parr is a skinny, nervous, teenager. He seems half of the time in shock because of what happened to his half-brother, half of the time annoyed to be missing out class at BCU. He says he was in his AcF 101 class all morning on the day Matthew went missing. He has friends to back up his story, but it has been a long time since the day. Jane makes a note to ask his lecturer if he calls roll.

Later, they talk to James' mother: Samantha Parr, she is Mr. Parr's first wife. She did not change her name back to her maiden one after the divorce. Jane forgets what her name was, but she remembers she understood why she did not change it back when she saw what it was. Ms. Parr cannot recall where she was on the day Matthew disappeared, and she seems generally a bit spaced out. She finally admits to being on medication for a mild depression. She hates her ex-husband, his new wife and, by extension, she has nothing good to say about the dead boy, who was going to take one-third of what was rightfully for her children.

They also interview Matthew's judo teacher: Anthony Childs. He is a dodgy man with a record of possession from the 90s, when he was in college. Matthew should have been in his class: a private one, but failed to show up according to Anthony. He did not report the boy missing as Matthew often missed classes, more interested in playing some kind of animal farm game on his phone than in learning self-defence. Jane does not like Mr. Childs at all. He is obviously hiding something. Jane makes a note to follow on the animal farm game, see if Matthew was playing online.

It is a frustrating couple of days, as they are not really closer to knowing who brought Matthew to the pond.

At least, Jane gets to see Maura both days. They have lunch together on Thursday and a coffee with Angela on Friday. Maura is comfortable and kind both times, joking with Jane when the occasion permits it. Jane feels a bit like they have gone on a time machine and they are back to how they were four years ago. With one exception. Maura still seems to sneak more touches and glances Jane's way than she ever did, and Jane can feel her hopes start to take off, growing like a balloon that is slowly inflating inside her chest, until she feels warm all over just thinking about the doctor.

xxx

On Saturday, Jane gets called again to the office and the day runs away from her. She has to meet Maura directly at the restaurant for their date. Jane keeps telling herself it is not a date all week, but just the same, every time she thinks about it, she calls it a date in her mind.

It makes her as giddy as it makes her fearful.

She is a bit late. Maura is already there, sitting at the bar, waiting for her. She is wearing a black dress that hugs her curves in a delightful way, displaying quite a bit of the soft skin of her arms and legs, and showing more than a hint of the generous cleavage that is barely held back by the dress.

It is an outfit that speaks of intentions.

The thing about her being late is that Maura and that dress could never sit at a bar anywhere in Boston for more than three minutes and remain alone.

There is a man seated by Maura, he has his hand on Maura's arm and is leaning over her. He is a good looking man, Jane guesses. By the looks of him, a successful professional if the expensive cut of his suit and the carefully trimmed hair are anything to go by.

"I am waiting for a friend," Maura tells him with a smile.

Jane hates that smile. It tastes like acid in her stomach.

"I can wait with you, sweet thing," he leers as he inches closer. He smells strongly of alcohol. His hand moves up her arm and dangerously close to her chest, making Maura lean back and try to get away from him.

"Enough, Romeo," Jane intervenes, grabbing his arm and moving it away from Maura. "The lady is spoken for."

"What? By you?" He asks derisively as he looks her up and down. It angers Jane, but also, it makes her feel suddenly inadequate. Out of Maura's league in her off-the-rack suit and worn work boots. She is twisting his arm before she really thinks about it.

"Let go, you bull-dyke!" he says, gritting his teeth.

And Jane does. Only when she does, he tips over in the chair, almost falling to the floor; his flailing limbs knocking over his drink, making a bit of a scene.

Jane moves the lapel of her jacket out of the way, so that he can see her gun, her badge. "Was he bothering you, Maura?" She asks her whilst keeping her eyes firmly on him.

"Please, Jane. It is fine." She says as she reaches out to touch Jane's arm. Jane does not turn until she watches the man depart, leaving them alone.

Maura looks around. A number of patrons are staring at them. "Maybe we should just go? Order in?"

"But you wanted to try this restaurant."

"I know, but we can come back some other time," she slips from the stool and stands by Jane. "We could go to your place?"

"Ok, if that's what you want."

Maura only nods as she subtly pushes Jane towards the door, giving the host an apologetic smile as they exit.

xxx

They ride back to Jane's place in silence, each lost in a world of her own thoughts. When they get there, Maura wants to get comfortable and so Jane gives her sweatpants, socks, and her softest BPD t-shirt to wear. She changes into similar clothing. The clothes look interesting on Maura, to say the least. They are loose in places where they fit Jane well, and tight in others. Maura fills Jane's t-shirt in a way that does not leave Jane indifferent.

Even in Jane's sweatpants and t-shirt, Maura cuts an arresting figure.

Jane calls for pizza whilst Maura is changing and by the time she joins Jane at the kitchen counter, the delivery boy has already come and gone.

"Thank you," Maura says when she sees that Jane has ordered from a gourmet pizza place that she has mentioned several times this week. "This is very tasty," she says around small bites, whilst pretending not to notice Jane picking out the mushrooms from her side of the pizza and sliding them under a paper napkin.

Jane is quiet while they eat, just listening to Maura as she recounts the latest findings from a couple of cases she is working on with other detectives. Jane only wonders if she is as abrasive and demanding as Maura's stories make her sound. Everyone else seems to just wait on their asses for Maura to bring them the results and solve the case, without constantly pushing and bugging the doctor to give their cases priority, or to go to the scene, or check all the evidence with them.

When they finish dinner and sit together on the sofa, Jane finally breaks the silence. "I'm sorry, for before. I made an ass out of myself."

"Don't worry," Maura says as she reaches to rub Jane's forearm. "He was out of line."

"But he was right, you know," Jane leans forward on the sofa, elbows coming to rest on her knees as she rakes her hands over her hair. "Why would someone like  _you_  meet up with someone like  _me_ at such a classy place?"

Jane laughs bitterly. "Did you see what I was wearing?"

It is a stupid question. "Of course you did," Jane answers herself. "And did you see what  _you_  were wearing?"

Jane's voice is so low Maura can barely hear it. "I'm such a dufus. Maura, you outclass me by-,"

"Jane. Please don't do this." Maura interrupts. "You know it is not like that between us."

Jane is quiet for a moment. She is feeling confused, desperate, "and how is it, Maura? How is it between us?"

Now it is Maura that is silent. She looks away, hesitating, wanting to say something but unsure of what precisely.

"There are so many things I want to tell you, but I can't," Jane says. "I just can't, Maura." She sighs in frustration. There are tears in her voice.

Maura moves closer on the sofa until they are touching all along their sides. "Jane, there is no need to-,"

"My marriage was a mistake." Jane suddenly says. "I thought that you-, that I-," she rubs her forehead. "I don't know what I thought."

"Jane."

"No." She shakes her head. "I  _am_  sorry, Maura. So sorry." She turns and reaches for Maura's hands. "Can you forgive me?"

"There is nothing to forgive."

Jane gives her a sad smile. "That's not true. I hurt you. I hurt us both," a breath. "Casey, too. He-, he loved me, Maura. Not like I wanted-," a pause, "like I  _want_  to be loved, but he loved me."

"I know," Maura turns her hands around, so that she is now holding Jane's hands. She regards them as she lets her thumbs caress them. It is always a surprise for Maura to note how fragile Jane's hands look in hers. How thin her bones, how soft the skin, how delicate and beautiful. Jane is incredibly feminine. It is not something she lets others see, but Maura sees it.

_Feels_  it.

How vulnerable and tender Jane is inside. How much she craves for love and friendship and companionship. So much she fooled herself into wanting what Casey was offering. Maura thinks it is perhaps why Jane is so prickly on the outside. So strong and capable. Why she feels the need to keep such a tough exterior. She has to guard the delicate inner core.

"I know." Maura repeats as she moves her head closer, until it is resting against the side of Jane's head, her breath falling softly over Jane's cheek and neck, making goose bumps raise in her skin.

"I missed you, Jane." She finally says, as she lets her nose rub against the side of Jane's face, inhaling her familiar scent. "So much."

She turns her face more fully, until her cheek is resting against Jane's. Her arms reach around Jane's body, encircling her and drawing her closer.

"Come here," she whispers before she pulls a trembling Jane into her arms.

Maybe it is Maura that is trembling.

xxx

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody hates this update. Sorry. There is more, I promise and it gets better.

A/N: You knew this was coming, guys.

xxx

CHAPTER VII

They wake up in a tangle of limbs.

Maura blinks, trying to arouse herself from a deep, restful sleep. It has been a while since she slept this soundly. She reaches up to rub her eyes. That is when she notices that Jane's long arms are wrapped around her body, and she remembers the where and why of this morning.  _Jane_. The sofa. An interminable hug, slightly wandering hands and them falling asleep in each other's arms.

Jane's right arm is encircling her back and waist. Maura is lying on her left side, her back against the sofa and her front pressed against Jane's side, her breasts slightly crushed against Jane's chest and arm.

She is lying half on top of Jane. Her leg is sprawled over both of Jane's, pinning her to the sofa, her centre pressing against Jane's thigh.

It should be uncomfortable, but it is not.

It is  _really_  not.

In fact, it is so far from uncomfortable, that Maura hesitates for a moment, unsure if she should proceed. This, she knows, is too far away from unwanted, too far away from clinical. But she cannot stop. Not now.

She moves her hand slowly over Jane's stomach, reaching lower for a second, letting her fingers caress a protruding hip bone, and then, travel up, over Jane's ribs, murmuring softly to herself as she names each delicate bone, her fingers climbing dangerously high on Jane's chest.

"Maura."

"Hmm?" Maura mumbles, her face pressing into Jane's neck, her eyelashes tickling the sensitive skin of her throat, her mouth coming to rest against her pulse point. Maura feels the rush of blood, the jump in Jane's pulse as her lips brush the heated skin.

"I need to get up," Jane says thickly as she traps Maura's hand under hers, holding it pressed against the underside of her breast, stopping it from moving any higher.

Maura pushes slightly against Jane's chest, rising on her elbow, coming to rest almost completely on top of Jane. Her breasts rest heavily on Jane's own chest and Jane can feel herself responding, her body catching fire, her nipples hardening, reacting to the feel of Maura's breasts against hers. Maura rubs her chest slowly over Jane's, and Jane feels her aroused nipples chaffing against the rough fabric of her t-shirt.

As she pivots on her hip, Maura shifts her weight on the sofa, her leg sliding between Jane's, pressing firmly against her centre. For a moment, Maura thinks she can feel Jane through their clothing, the heat of her, maybe even the wetness.

"Maura." Jane repeats, and this time, her voice is lower, something between a gasp and a prayer.

Jane clears her throat and speaks before she does something stupid, like rock her hips against Maura's thigh, or reach around and grab Maura, push her more firmly into her body. She concentrates on not arching her body, on not pushing Maura's hand higher, over her breast, or even worse,  _lower_ , down her body.

"You need to let me up, sweetie."

It is something she almost never calls Maura.

Sweetie.

Love.

Maura.

_Maura._

Maura is all those things, and more. She is  _Maura_. Just her name is enough to make Jane smile. The sound of her ridiculously high heels clicking on the floor is the soundtrack to Jane's life. All the music she has ever wanted to hear. And Maura is on top of Jane, pressing where Jane needs pressure, and shifting and rolling her hips and  _Oh my god Maura_  Jane thinks as she arches into the touch, hips seeking. Finding.

"Please," Jane almost croaks. Voice low, pleading.

She does not know what she is asking. If she wants Maura to press on, or to let up.

A deep flush of arousal travels over her body, making her quiver in Maura's arms. A pulsing heat coils at the base of her spine, threatening to bring her over the edge if Maura as much as rocks against her once more. Jane spreads her legs without conscious thought; inviting Maura's touch, the pressure of Maura's thigh between her legs bringing pain and relief in equal measures.

It is too quick, too sudden, this awakening of the body, of the mind.

This pulsing.

This heat.

Maura regards Jane silently.

She is torn between what she wants to do and what she needs to do.

She takes a tremulous breath and moves her leg over Jane's side and sits up, straddling Jane but supporting her weight on her own legs.

She reaches down to move Jane's hair out of the way, slowly caressing Jane's cheeks, her forehead, her neck. One of her hands gets tangled in Jane's thick, dark hair. She takes on Jane's dishevelled state, the quick rise of her chest as she breathes, the trembling.

There is fear in Jane's eyes, but also desire, and tenderness, and acceptance.

It is too much for Maura.

"Good morning, Jane." She breathes as she reaches down and kisses Jane's cheek. She lingers, her face against Jane's. Her cheek rubbing Jane's for a moment longer before she kisses the corner of her mouth, her nose, and finally leans back to look at Jane in the eye.

Jane blinks. A slow smile spreading. "Did you just kiss my nose?"

"I did," Maura smiles. "I'll let you get up."

"It looks like it is going to be a very bright day," Maura says as she walks towards the bedroom. "We could go for lunch some place nice, maybe close to the-,"

Jane cannot hear the rest, Maura's voice becoming muffled as she moves into the bedroom.

She rubs the side of her nose, where Maura just kissed her, and tries to relax her still trembling limbs.

xxx

It is the start of, easily, the best week in Jane's life.

She sees very little of Maura, but it does not matter. She is still lying on that sofa, trapped under Maura.

The thing with Jane is, she cannot address any of it out in the open. Not really. She would like to ask Maura about what happened and what it means, but she cannot. She rolls her eyes at herself, not without bitterness because, sure, Jane Rizzoli, brave amongst the brave, can take a bullet through her stomach for those she loves, but she is chicken shit when it comes to risking her heart.

She just hopes Maura continues to take the lead, because finally,  _finally_ , she feels ready to follow.

She knows that has been her problem all along: her refusal to open herself to Maura's advances. She can recall over a dozen times when Maura had opened the door to more, when Jane had had a choice and how, every single time, she had chosen the easy way out. How she had made jokes and refused to understand what Maura really meant. How she had dismissed it, shrugged it off. How those occasions had come progressively less often as the years went by, until in that last year, before marrying Casey, she felt like she had exhausted all her chances at happiness.

She had been so obtuse. So frightened of finding out what Maura may mean, what she may want and need.

But of course, that is a lie.

What had really held her back then had been the fear of what  _she_  herself needed. The fear of acknowledging it, and then, maybe never having it.

Jane knows, in her heart, that only the bravest of people dare to dream.

She had never dared.

But this time, she is ready.

More that ready.

Almost  _desperate_.

The work week flies by. It is a busy week, with a husband murdering his wife in a terrible case of home abuse, and a 16 year old boy dying in a gang-related crime. It is on Thursday when they find the first real piece of evidence that will help them break Matthew Parr's case.

"We found them in the ice, just like you said," Maura opens a fridge and shows her a block of ice. Inside it, Jane can see a pair of green glasses. "The tip of one of the temple covers is broken. That is the bit we had before," she points at the plastic bit that is lying next to the ice.

"Temple what?" Jane asks. "You mean the arms?"

"Precisely," she nods. "We have calculated the volumetric mass density of the glasses, taking into account the void density of the ice surrounding them, and it is unexpectedly high."

"In non-google speak?"

"The glasses are very heavy."

"Well, that's because they are encased in five pounds of ice, Maura." Jane rolls her eyes. "Why don't you take them out?"

"Given the volume and temperature of the ice, and the density of water particulates, we can estimate the weight of the water separate from the weight of the glasses, but we must first-,"

"Also, how did you find them?" Jane interrupts, "and where?"

Maura moves to the side, checking some notes. "These notes were taken by Senior Criminalist Chang. She was at the scene when they found them. According to this, the glasses were over 10 feet away from the body, at the edge of our initial scene."

Maura moves back towards Jane, leaning slightly against her as she bends forward to look at the ice more closely.

"We have not yet removed them from the ice as there could be fingerprints on the glass. I must research into how to defrost them carefully so that no evidence is lost." Maura explains. "If someone other than Matthew touched the glasses, there is a very high likelihood that they left prints."

"Ok, that makes sense."

Jane also bends over to examine the ice. She is shoulder to shoulder with Maura and enjoying their closeness immensely. Then, she notices.

"Maura, they're folded."

Maura only nods.

"That can only mean that...," Jane says and waits for Maura to finish her sentence.

But Maura Isles does  _not_  guess. She does not put the story together. That is Jane's job. She only gives her the pieces. Maura tilts her head, and gives Jane a smile as she crosses her arms over her chest. The move pushes her breasts up. She notices Jane's gaze moving over her generous cleavage before returning to look at her eyes.

Maura lifts an eyebrow at Jane.

Jane blinks and smiles self-consciously. "It means someone took the glasses, folded them and threw them into the water."

"I can not conclusively say that, but it is indeed unlikely that Matthew himself would toss the glasses into the water."

Jane nods. "It was a murder." She smiles. "I'm going to tell Korsak."

She looks at the block of ice and points, "this is great, Maura." Then, softly. "Thank you."

xxx

They agree to go for lunch together on Friday. Jane is slightly late and Maura finds her engrossed in some paperwork. Jane has spent all morning at the pond, with Korsak. They had quickly figured out that a grown man, like Childs, could easily throw the glasses further into the water than just a few feet away. There is just  _something_  that does not add up.

Jane is sitting at her desk, pondering over all the clues, when Maura joins her.

"Good morning, Jane." Maura says. "Are you ready to go?"

"Sure," Jane says, standing up and reaching for her jacket.

"Great," Maura says with enthusiasm and hands Jane a wrapped up box. "I have a present for you."

"What's the occasion?" Jane asks with a smile as she tears at the wrapping.

Maura just shrugs as she watches Jane's eyes widen comically, her eyebrows first lifting almost all the way into her hairline and then, drawing down, creating a deep line between them.

Jane is speechless for a minute, turning the box over in her hands. "Ok," she says as she blushes, "a Form-2 JimmyJane... vibrator."

"It is very discrete," Maura nods, "and pink." As if that was somehow important.

She points with an immaculately manicured finger. "I thought the name added a nice touch, don't you think?" she laughs in delight at Jane's obvious embarrassment.

"Maura," Jane whines.

Maura takes Jane's hand. "Jane, you have been tired and frustrated these last few weeks. I know you don't like to talk about these things, but this could help," she speaks softly, as if to a child. She moves closer, stepping into Jane's space, and if this was not Maura, Jane would push her away, but it  _is_  Maura and she can stand as close as she wants. "I can imagine, with your hands, the reach and mobility required to take care of such things on your own may be painful."

Trust Maura to be sensitive and terribly embarrassing all at once.

Jane wants to cry, and laugh, and just hide under the table, really.

It blows her mind that Maura is thoughtful enough to think about how her injuries may affect her  _even_  in this.

_She is wrong anyway._ Jane blushes even more as she recalls exactly how easily she had been 'taking care of things' this past week, thinking about Maura pressing her against the sofa.

Not that Jane would  _ever_  explain that to Maura.

Maura takes Jane's silence as a good omen. She takes the box from Jane's hand and unpacks it, separating the base from the actual vibrator. It fits easily in the palm of her hand. She turns it on and it makes a soft humming noise. "Hmm, that's nice," she breathes.

"Maura!" Jane whispers loudly, as she takes it from Maura and turns it off, frantically looking around. Fortunately, there is nobody else around.

"It says in here that it is waterproof," Maura explains as she reads the manual. "It is fully charged, and the batteries should be good for at least two and a half hours of use." She informs a blinking Jane. Then, she turns the booklet sideways. "I am sure you can figure out what goes where, but there are some very informational pictures here if you wish to-,"

Jane snaps the booklet out of Maura's hands. "Give me that."

Maura puts both hands on her hips as she regards Jane with a smile. Jane thinks she hears her mutter the word  _prude_ but she is resolutely ignoring Maura. She drops everything on her desk as if afraid it would jump at her, and then, tries to rub the red out of her cheeks.

She looks at Maura when she feels a bit calmer. Maura can see it in Jane's eyes. That mix of amusement and tenderness that is reserved for her alone, and she feels herself blushing with the pleasure of it.

"Ok," Jane finally says. "Fine." She waves her hands. "Hit me with it. Tell me what I've done. I'm sure you are right and I'm wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"Are you getting back at me for something?"

Maura blinks in confusion.

"You're just trying to embarrass me to death, right?" Jane frowns. "Is this something you read about in one of your Journals, Maura? Or was it in one of your Cosmo magazines? I know, ' _Revenge by ridicule_?' or, ' _How to make your conservative friend blush until her head explodes'_?"

Maura just tilts her head to the side, as if trying to ascertain whether Jane is serious. "I only read Cosmopolitan for ethnological research."

"Sure you do." Jane rolls her eyes at her. "You know that it isn't actually possible to die of embarrassment, right? It's just a saying," she adds.

"Idiomatic expressions often have their origin in common knowledge and historical events, Jane. I find quite a few of them fascinating, more-so even than the etymologies of individual words."

Jane gives Maura a smile. "Whatever. It's not going to work, Maura."

She is confident on this. She would had _already_  died of embarrassment if it was possible to die in such a way.

"Let's go get some chow, I'm starved," she finally says, and makes a show of putting everything back in the box and locking it away in the bottom drawer of her desk, but while Maura is putting on her coat, she discretely pockets Maura's present.

It  _is_  conveniently sized, Jane will give her that.

xxx

The following week starts with Maura giving them the key evidence to solve the case.

It is the start of, easily, the worst week in Jane's life.

There are fingerprints and almost an entire palm print on Matthew's glasses that do not match the boy or any of the suspects. Not only that, given the size of the prints, Maura comes to the conclusion that they cannot belong to an average-sized adult, not even to one that was three standard deviations away from the mean.

Jane interprets that to mean they are looking for a child.

Or as Maura helpfully points out, a dwarf. But Jane is leaning heavily on the prints belonging to a child.

They will need a Judge to give them approval to collect fingerprints from all the children Matthew associated with, but it is now just a question of time. Jane is confident they will soon know who was with Matthew at the pond. And once they have a name, they will be closer to figuring out what happened.

On Friday, after a week of flirting and Maura repeatedly asking Jane if she has yet tried out her present or perhaps needs help in figuring out how it works, Maura asks Jane out. Actually, she asks her  _in_. She asks Jane to go out for a quiet dinner, and then, to watch a movie together at Jane's apartment.

Jane is only too happy to agree.

They go out for an early dinner at a small restaurant where Jane can have a hamburger and Maura can eat most of Jane's fries and quite a bit of her own salad. It is a cold evening, but they take the long way back to the car, walking close together.

"Are you cold?" Maura asks, when she notices Jane rubbing her hands and breathing into them.

Jane, always self concious of her hands, immediately tries to hide them, putting her arms flat against her body.

"Just my hands, but it's-," a pause. "Oh."

Jane feels her heart skip a beat and then, race to catch up. The feel of Maura's warm hand on hers producing a heat completely out of proportion. She swallows hard and tentatively squeezes Maura's fingers.

"Your hand is warm," Jane whispers.

They hold hands all the way to the car. Jane feels like she is walking three feet off the floor.

When they get to Jane's apartment, Maura kicks off her heels and sits on the sofa. After some banter and a bit of dramatics from Jane, they decide on watching a re-run of the Exorcist that will start in an hour. Maura has never seen it, and Jane insists it is a classic.

Jane gets them some snacks and drinks, placing them on the coffee table, and, for once, does the brave thing.

She sits nearly on top of Maura and immediately passes an arm around her shoulders. When she feels Maura move against her side, pressing even closer, she lowers her arm until it rests on Maura's waist. She lets her thumb caress the silk of Maura's blouse as she enjoys the press of Maura's body against hers.

Maura touches Jane's cheek, removing a strand of hair from Jane's face and moving it behind her ear. She leans her forehead against Jane's cheek for a moment, then, she rubs her nose over Jane's face, moving ever closer, until her breath falls on Jane's mouth.

Jane closes her eyes and waits.

Then, she laughs and frowns, "don't kiss my nose, Maura."

"You have a very aesthetically pleasing nose, Jane. Your ethnoid bone and nassal septum are-,"

Jane interrupts, "it's weird."

Maura looks into Jane's eyes, their faces so close their noses are almost touching. She smiles. "Where can I kiss you, then?"

Jane gives Maura the biggest smile Maura has ever seen, then, she reaches with a hand that trembles slightly to touch Maura's hair. "I love your hair," Jane whispers. She kisses Maura's ear. "You can kiss me there," she mumbles. She slides her lips over Maura's soft cheek, "or here," she says roughly. Then, she lets her lips move lower until she is kissing Maura, once, twice, catching her lower lip between both of hers. "Here," she says, between kisses. "Always here."

Jane is breathing like she just ran a marathon, her body rioting, spiralling out of control too fast. She surges against Maura, pressing her into the arm of the sofa, opening her mouth and letting her tongue touch Maura's lips, asking for entry.

Maura opens her lips and breathes into Jane's mouth, her tongue tentatively touching Jane's.

Jane whimpers so loudly that it startles Maura into inaction.

She pushes Jane away, a hand firmly on the middle of her chest.

Maura looks at Jane for a moment, trying to catch her breath. "I think that should be enough for you to provide answers to the DHS Likert scale." She finally says.

"What?" Jane says roughly. She is entirely dazed. She tries to push forward again, but the hand on her chest stops her.

"The DHS study on gender differences? I gave you the folder a few weeks ago and told you to go carefully through the information it contained?"

Jane shakes her head, trying to calm her breathing. She cannot understand why they are talking about a stupid study when they could be making out on the sofa. Now that she has discovered how wonderful it is to kiss Maura, she wants to spend the rest of the evening doing it. Maybe longer.

"Maura, I don't know what you're talking about." She almost whines. Her eyes dropping to Maura's mouth, her hand reaching out to touch Maura's fingers on her chest. She fully intends to push that hand lower. And to the side. She wants Maura to feel her heart beat. She wants to feel Maura's warm hand on her breast.

Maura's brow crinkles, her fingers escaping from under Jane's hand. She looks around the room.

_There_ , under the coffee table, she can see the folder. She moves to retrieve it.

"Here." She gives it to Jane.

Jane looks at Maura for a moment, still not fully understanding anything beyond the thumping of her heart against her ribcage. But when Maura shoves the folder into her hands, she dutifully opens it and reads it.

The folder starts with a summary report addressed to Detective Jane Rizzoli, Boston Police Department. It is dated six weeks ago and Jane can fuzzily remember Maura giving it to her. That Saturday morning things had started to turn. Maura had come over and, although she had left in a bit of a hurry, she had reached out to Jane for the first time since she came back to Boston.

Jane reads the information. It explains that she will be tested, in the coming weeks, by a researcher on a number of potentially unwanted advances in the work force. The file proceeds to list the items the researcher will be using as cues to try to fabricate such advances, providing a detailed list: (1) looking a person up and down; (2) blocking a person's path; (3) displaying sexually suggestive visuals; (4) making comments about a person's body; (5) asking about sexual fantasies, preferences or history; (6) asking out a person; (7) giving personal gifts; (8) standing close or brushing up against the other person; (9) touching the person's clothing, hair, or body; (10) hugging, kissing, patting or stroking.

There are a lot of details and paperwork after that, but that is all Jane can read.

Face white as a sheet, she looks up. Pages falling to the floor from lifeless fingers, forgotten.

She swallows down the bile threatening to rise.

"Is this what has been going on?" Jane asks, voice thick, low, "you know, with us?" She feels something horrible inside her chest moving, like a curled up snake awakening, trying to claw its way out.

Maura only looks at her, uncomprehending. "I have conducted the tests adhering precisely to the established guidelines, if that is what you are asking." She says.

"But-, but the-, but you-, I-," for once, Jane is at a loss for words. "No, no. Not you.  _I_. Always I."

She rubs her hands over her face. Maura cannot help but notice that they shake as she moves them to smooth her wild hair out of her face.

"Do you need me to grade this for you right now, Maura?" Jane finally asks, voice so low Maura struggles to understand her.

Maura nods. "If you would not mind. It is always best to fill in the answers as soon as possible after the tests are conducted; the recency effect is, for the purpose of this study, a positive behavioural bias."

Jane stares at Maura for a moment longer. Then, she stands up on wobbly legs.

"Of course. But I-, I need some fresh air, first."

She walks out not bothering with a jacket.

It is twenty degrees out.

Jane is colder inside.

xxx


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER VIII

The alarm clock goes off at precisely 6:15 a.m.

It is set at the same time every morning, with the exception of Sundays, when Maura wakes up at 8.

In her bedroom at Quantico, she has a sunrise alarm clock. It allows her to arise naturally by gradually increasing the intensity of a LED light that simulates a natural sunrise, making a sound similar to a waterfall. She decided to buy this particular model because a number of studies have shown that it can help with various sleep disorders as well as with seasonal affective disorder.

Ever since she moved to Quantico, Maura has had trouble sleeping.

Maybe it started  _earlier_ , but she does not let the origin of her malady trouble her. She will just treat the symptoms as they appear.

Maura opens her eyes to the sound of water falling.

It is soothing, she supposes.

Truth is, the clock does not really help.

She stares for a moment at the dark ceiling, mentally reviewing what she will do today, and then, rises from the bed, never one to linger once she is awake. She has a perfectly arranged schedule here at Quantico. It is very much unlike her rather chaotic life in Boston. The move to Quantico made her aware of just how tangled up in relationships outside of her work obligations she had become in her last few years at BPD.

This ordered life fits her better.

She tells herself this a few times every day.

_This ordered life fits her better._

She even writes it down sometimes. Extensive research has unequivocally demonstrated that the brain can be fooled into thinking something by implementing sets of simple tricks, such as repeating the same ideas over and over, or writing them down and forcing the brain to process them more explicitly. She had tried similar tactics years before, after her surgery, getting her cheek muscles to replicate smiling, by biting down on a pencil.

In this new life, everything is orderly and timed precisely. There are no gaps in her day. No time to think of anything but what she should be doing next, her papers, her research, her work.

She is moving through.

Through life. Through disappointment. Through heartache and back.

She does 30 minutes of light yoga, takes a shower, eats a healthy breakfast.

She has carefully designed six separate seven-day healthy menus that she rotates depending on a fixed set of variables. As with most things in life, Maura has figured out that when it comes to having a healthy diet, there is a limited number of food combinations needed. Using a basic probability model with replacement, she has determined that six rotations are enough to address any potential deficits in nutrients and also, to give her the variation she would otherwise miss if she had less options.

Of course, based on research conducted at the University of Lancaster, she has also experimented with set menus of nine days, but she finds her own monthly cycle fits better with four sets of seven days rather than three of nine. In addition, the seven day menus permit more efficient grocery shopping and maximize her intake of fresh products.

She dresses in a white Vera Wang gown that leaves her shoulders bare and fits her beautifully around the waist, and gets ready to leave for the office. She is following the same schedule as every day, but when she looks at the clock over the mantle, she realizes it is already 3 p.m. and she is terribly late.

She rushes to the door, but it is of no consequence, because when she walks out of the flat, she steps directly into Saint Cecilia, just where she needed to be.

And, yes, if it had been entirely up to her, Maura would had actually preferred a non-religious ceremony and, definitely, no chocolate on the cake, but Jane insisted on both counts, and who was she to deny her in such a day.

It is not like they can get married by the catholic rite. Not really, anyway, but Angela wanted her only daughter to get what she had called an 'honest-to-god' ceremony, a concept Maura had struggled with for a few days until Jane simply told her to let it go, and thus; here they are.

It is, possibly, the happiest day of Maura's life. The dream of a lifetime: marrying Jane, with all their friends and family as witnesses.

Jane is already waiting at the altar as she walks down the aisle. She is led by Jane's father, which is troublesome, but Maura cannot remember if she invited her own father to come. Paddy Doyle is officiating the ceremony. He is wearing a priest's outfit and Maura thinks that, surely, he must had stolen it and it will get them in trouble with the police, but it all somehow fades away: Jane is smiling widely at her.

It is all a bit of a blur, really, because suddenly she is saying her vows, followed by, "I do."

Paddy declares them husband and wife. And Maura is tempted to correct him, because it should be wife and wife, but she wants to kiss her bride, so she only smiles and turns towards Jane.

That is when Maura realizes her error:  _she has married Casey_.

"No!"

Maura wakes up with a gasp.

She looks around to orient herself, a hand moving to her heaving chest, trying to calm down her breathing.

_Nightmare._

_Calm down. It was just a nightmare._

Her heart beats loudly in her ears.

She is at Jane's, sitting on the sofa.

She must have fallen asleep after Jane left for a walk. It is after midnight. Maura looks around, upset. It has been months since she last dreamt of Jane's wedding. And never like this, never had she been the one marrying Jane, only to have the bride and groom swap places right at the very last minute, to end up marrying Casey.

Tears gather in her eyes as she shakily stands up, smoothing out inexistent wrinkles from her outfit. "Jane?" she asks in a timid voice, but it is obvious that she is still alone. She reaches for her coat and puts it on. She thinks she should leave a note for Jane, so she knows she had to leave and could not wait for her any more, but she is too deeply shaken by the dream, by the memory of her days at Quantico.

It terrifies her. How much she had shut herself down during those years.

She was almost like a-, what had Jane jokingly called her that one time? A cyborg?

She had _been_  a cyborg and failed to tell even herself about it.

She had systematically stripped herself of all feeling, until there was nothing left.

No pain.

No Maura.

She cinches her coat tightly and steps out of Jane's flat, almost running down the stairs and towards the safety of her car.

xxx

Maura tries to go to sleep once she is home. But she cannot relax. Every time she closes her eyes, she keeps seeing herself at Quantico, and then, dressed in that wonderful Vera Wang gown, walking towards Jane. Marrying Casey.

It is all too upsetting.

She gives up on sleep after a couple of hours of mostly tossing and turning in bed. She tries to do some yoga, but her mind is simply in too much turmoil for that. She finally puts on her robe and goes down to the kitchen, to make herself a tea, perhaps read a couple of recent articles she has not had the time to check yet. She should also fill in her part of the forms for the DHS study, but it is only the last test that she needs to score. She can do that later.

Maura likes making tea. It soothes her. She has just finished pouring herself a cup when she hears a knock-, no. Not a knock; someone's pounding on the door.

It is not yet 5 a.m. when she opens the door: it is still fully dark outside.

Maura never receives visitors at this time of night.

It can only be one person.

"Jane," she pauses as she schools her features into what she hopes is a pleasant enough smile. "Please, come in," she turns back towards the kitchen and the calming effect of her tea.

Jane strolls into the house after a moment hesitation. She might as well do this inside. She is not wearing a coat. In her hand, she has some of the papers Maura left behind, scrunched up in her fist.

"I filled in all your forms," she almost sneers as she throws the papers at Maura.

Maura grabs one of the papers, as it flies towards her chest, but the other slides to the floor between them. She is shocked for a moment, but then, she bends to collect it and scans quickly through it.

"These are not answered," she says quietly.

"Of course not. What the actual fuck, Maura?" Jane seethes. "What was that all about? How could you do this?"

Jane is so angry she is shaking. "Is that all I'm good for these days? I've become a human-sized guinea pig? Someone you can use to conduct your little Frankenstein experiments on? Is that how you treat frie-, people now? What, are you going to give me electroshocks next?" She pounds her own chest with a fisted hand, "I would have never treated you this badly," she accuses. "Never."

Maura stares at Jane, taken aback.

"Who are you, Maura?" Jane asks. "Ever since you came back from Quantico, it's like I don't know you any more," she pushes her wild hair out of her face.

"I-, I ate the cake," Maura says in her defence, nonsensically, as if that explains anything; starting a conversation she has never wanted to have right in the middle.

"You what?" Jane asks and wonders if this is one of Maura's mangled up attempts at using an idiom.

"Your wedding," she whispers. "It was too rich, Jane, but I ate it."

The chocolate cake they served at Jane's wedding had made her so sick, she was throwing up for what felt like days afterwards.

 _Maybe_  it had not been because of the cake.

"You were my best friend, but you left for Afghanistan," Maura breathes the words. They still hurt. She tries to explain, to let Jane know who she is; who she  _was_. What the wedding, Casey, Quantico have done to her. "I-, I was still in Boston, Jane."

"So was Frankie, and Korsak, and Frost, and Ma." Jane argues back.

"But not  _you_ ," Maura shakes her head. "It spoiled everything for me. The job, the city, our friends," she lowers her voice. "They were all  _your_  friends, not mine. I couldn't stay. I had to go."

She meets Jane's gaze, gaining a bit of momentum. "You left, Jane. You married Casey and left. Just like that," she looks to the side for a moment. "I thought I could be happy for you. That I could be your friend, that I could-," a shaky breath. A pause. She frowns. "But I found that I couldn't. I just couldn't, Jane. I had to make myself strong. I  _forced_  myself to. I even went to the airport to say goodbye. Do you remember?" She asks. "I gave you a sun hat?"

Jane stares at Maura. "What does that have to do with this, Maura?"

"Everything," Maura says. "Don't you see? I went with you to Afghanistan, Jane. Only I did not come back. I'm still there!"

Jane is silent for a moment. She wants to understand.  _Desperately_. "Fine. So, I hurt you and then you, what, you became Cruella De Vil?" Jane asks. "Are you going to make yourself a coat out of puppies next? Maybe out of my own skin?"

Maura blinks in confusion. "I don't know who that is."

"Of course you don't." Jane almost shouts. "She's a monster, Maura! A horrible, mean old woman that makes children cry." She takes a step forward. "You led me on with your little study. How far were you going to take it? You were practically dry humping me on the sofa, for Christ's sake!"

" _I_? I led you on?" Maura also takes a step forward. "You! You led me on. Like you always do!"

"Me? How have I led you on?"

"You  _knew_!"

Jane's eyebrows draw together, creating a deep line between them. "I knew what?"

"Everything! I gave you the details of the study! The schedule, the tests, everything! You knew how far it was going to go, but you pushed it further, you never stepped back like you were supposed to, not once, Jane!" She rises her voice as she speaks, but then, goes quiet. "What else could I have done tonight?"

Jane opens her mouth to answer but nothing comes out.

It does not matter. Maura is not yet finished. "I had to stop it!" A fortifying nod.

She attempts to convince herself that she indeed did the right thing. "I had to."

Persuasion by  _repetition._  Truth in iteration. She has read it works.

Maura's chest heaves as she breathes, "I had already compromised the study by taking it further than I was supposed to." An incriminating finger points at the centre of Jane's chest. Jane looks down at the finger, at the hand attached to it. It is shaking visibly. Maura drops it self-consciously, but issues her accusation just the same, "how far were  _you_  going to let me go?" Maura asks. "Would you have had your way with me on the sofa if I hadn't stopped it?" she asks. "Would you have continued even after that? Maybe until you had my heart in your hands again?"

"Is that it? You take pleasure in knowing how much I lo-," Maura stops.

Gasps for air.

She grabs at her chest. The pain is still too raw. She has never allowed herself to think of this, let alone speak about it out loud.

Maura does not have the right words. She smiles bitterly at nothing in particular. It is just her luck, really; midway through what is probably the most important conversation of her adult life, she finds herself in the middle of her usual nightmare: she is unprepared for this test.

She feels frayed, on edge.

Words she has never wanted to say threaten to escape from the deep recesses of her mind. Words that have weighted Maura down for years. Words that are not just names attached to fleeting thoughts. No. They are much worse: they are facts about herself, about Jane, about life and love and happiness and everything in between.

They stare at each other across the kitchen, three mere feet of empty space between them.

Maura thinks they have never been so far away.

Not even when Jane was in Afghanistan and she was in Quantico.

They are both breathing heavily, trembling. This is unlike any fight they have ever had.

Maura feels light-headed, she is not sure if she means everything she has said, but she does not have the strength to take any of it back.

"I didn't know." Jane finally says. Her voice cuts through the silence; low but clear, like the first ray of light cutting through the darkness of the early morning: it blinds Maura.

Jane show Maura her palms in a pacifying gesture. "I didn't read the paperwork, Maura."

The words knock Maura a step back.

They are like physical blows. A shove, and a kick to the sternum, and a punch to the stomach, and a jab to the nose, and an elbow to the ribs. Her body bends inwards, as if guarding itself against the barrage of hits, against further abuse.

"You-," a shaky breath. "You didn't read it?"

Maura cannot lie.  _Physically._  But she is a master at subterfuge, at avoidance, at courting the truth, at bending it until it tastes like a lie. It is almost ironic, because in the end, Maura knows that out of the two of them, it is Jane who does not lie.

"I told you to read it. I  _insisted_  you read it, Jane." Her voice is breathless, weak. "I specifically asked you to come to me, or to Susie, with any questions."

Jane only shrugs. She looks away for the first time since she came into the house.

"I forgot."

"You forgot."

Maura sees it in Jane's eyes.

Jane forgot. She did not know.

Maura covers her mouth with her hand and makes a sound like a dying animal caught in a trap, alone in the forest. It is a terrible sound; it has been imprisoned in her chest since she saw Jane walk down the aisle towards Casey. It finally escapes now, making a dash for freedom.

It makes the fine hairs on Jane's arms stand on end. She takes a step towards Maura, a hand reaching out before she knows what she is doing.

Tears start to fall down Maura's face as she struggles to breathe around the iron fist that has reached inside her chest, squeezing at her entrails.

_Oh god._

_Jane did not know._

_What have I done._

"Can you  _never_  do what you are told to do?" Maura tries to ask but a sob rises from her chest, escaping with the last word and chocking her.

"It doesn't matter," Maura mumbles. "It is all lost anyway." She shakes her head, as if that would help shake off the dread, the grief.

"An ordered life fits me better." She says the words she has practised a hundred times. And, then, again, for good measure. "An ordered life fits me better."

Unfortunately, all the brain tricking has been for nothing: it is still a lie.

Her legs start to tremble and she takes another step back, closer to the table at the centre of the kitchen, her hand reaching towards the surface to steady herself against it. But it is too far away.  _Unreachable._  Like so many other things in her life. Close at hand, but forever out of reach. She feels herself falling, her vision becoming blurry as the floor suddenly rises to meet her.

"Maura?"

xxx

When Maura wakes up again, half of the morning is already gone. She must had been more tired than she thought.

She is lying on her own bed. In her room, in Boston. The curtains are drawn to keep the light out, but not completely, and Maura can see it is almost noon.

"Are you ok, honey?"

Maura turns her head towards the voice. Her neck hurts. "Angela."

"Don't turn this way. Jane told me you fainted and she didn't have time to catch you before you hit the floor," Angela explains as she moves around the bed, "why she spends all that time watching sports if she cannot be quick enough to catch a fainting friend, I don't know." She nags.

Maura turns to keep the older woman in sight. It relieves some of the pain in her neck and jaw.

"I've been applying ice while you slept, but you'll probably have a bruise for a couple of days." Angela says. "I guess it's a good thing it wasn't Jane who fainted; you'll at least be able to conceal it with makeup. If it was Jane, she'd strut around for a week looking like she got into a fist fight with Rocky Balboa." The image makes Angela frown. "You should really teach Jane a few makeup tricks. She's not getting any younger."

Angela sits on the bed and grabs Maura's hand.

She regards Maura quietly and grows serious. "Jane said you two argued."

Maura closes her eyes and nods. When she opens them, tears threaten to spill. "We did," she says roughly.

"Well, you'll have to forgive her. I'm sure Jane's wrong, but she's a crazy hotheaded Italian, so don't hold it against her."

"No, Angela. This time it is my fault," Maura says weakly.

Angela regards her tenderly. She reaches up to caress her cheek and move some blonde strands of hair out of the way. It may not be her place to speak, but she has been quiet long enough. These are her  _daughters_. It is high time they find happiness.

"Jane loves you, Maura." Angela says.

She has known this for years, just never spoken of it. But now, after voicing them, the words ring so true they surprise Angela a little.

Angela nods. "She does."

"That's why her marriage with Charles failed. Why she came back. You know this, right? She wouldn't tell me, because she never tells  _me_  anything, but I know she's been desperate to make amends with you." A pause. "She was called into work and had to leave. But she wanted you to call her as soon as you woke up."

Maura does not say anything. She looks down and starts to smooth invisible wrinkles from the sheets.

"She was frantic with worry, honey," Angela says. "She came looking for me, but she wouldn't let me help carry you upstairs." She rolls her eyes. "No, she had to do her macho girl thing," Angela frowns, but Maura can see, underneath, how proud Angela is of Jane. "As if I would've let you drop!" she huffs.

"Jane carried me upstairs?" Maura asks, as she feels a deep flush travel up her chest and neck.

"You certainly didn't fly all the way up here," Angela smiles. Then, she bends over and kisses Maura's head. "C'mon, let's get some late breakfast into you, and then, you can tell me all about it."

"I am not that hungry, Angela." She means _I do not want to talk about it_.

"But I am, and I made too much food," Angela insists, and Maura is too polite to refuse her.

"Freshen up a bit, and I'll see you downstairs in a minute," Angela commands as she leaves the room.

Maura takes almost an hour to join Angela downstairs. When she does, she is wearing a light blue dress and dark heels. Her hair and makeup are perfect. Angela can still see the bruise forming on her jaw, but only because she knows it is there.

Maura feels a bit more like herself when she is wearing her clothes, her nice shoes, her makeup. It settles her: these things are her suit of armour. It is easier to  _be_  when she is wearing them.

"You should call Jane," Angela says by way of greeting. "You know her. She must be climbing the walls by now."

Maura frowns, but does not say anything.

"She said to tell you something else," Angela pauses and shrugs her shoulders. "What was it? Something like: 'we're not done, here'?"

Maura stares at something in the far away wall.

"No. I suppose we are not."

xxx


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER IX

Maura never calls.

_Of course not._

Jane knows, this time, it is on  _her_  to change the tide.

Still, it is a struggle.

She spends Saturday at the office, interviewing a key witness that turns out not to know anything of relevance, and then, all of Sunday at home, checking her mobile phone every five minutes, willing Maura to ring, whilst resolutely ignoring the four missed calls and six unopened text messages from Angela.

If she ever lived through a longer weekend, Jane cannot remember it.

She paces.

She goes out for a run, phone strapped to her arm using that ridiculous bright pink Nike armband Maura gave her. Yes, the one she promised  _never_  to use; until, of course, she started using it every time she went running, to remind herself of Maura.

Running being just one of the many things Jane lost her enjoyment for when Maura was no longer coming along, nagging about keeping a constant pace, or insisting Jane wear a better jacket, or that she stretch properly both before and after the run, or that she use a watch to take her pulse, her blood pressure and god knows what else, so Maura could analyse it all later on.

She is not sure how, but all her memories of Maura are good ones. All her oddities, her moods, her one-of-a-kind quirks and eccentricities. All the moments spent together. They are all precious to Jane, and their absence is just unbearable.

Now, more than ever.

How can  _absence_  take so much space in a person's life? How can something that isn't,  _be_?

Jane even takes the damn phone with her when she goes to the bathroom.

 _Pathetic_. She berates herself.  _What are you going to do if she calls when you are using the toilet?_

She does her best to ignore the case file that is sitting upside-down on her coffee table. She flipped it around noon on Sunday, when she decided that if she had to look at the "DHS STUDY BPD | SUBJECT: DET. JANE RIZZOLI" bright yellow label any longer she might have to set the whole house on fire.

It is an exercise in patience she does not have.

She almost calls Maura a dozen times.

It is around 1 am on Monday morning, when she is tossing and turning in bed, that she finally decides to give them both a few days before trying to discuss things.

Truth is, she does not trust herself not to make things worse if she tries to confront Maura too soon.

Still, it is a decision that fails to give her peace: she hardly sleeps all night and she is almost two hours early on Monday at the office.

She looks like she has not slept a wink all weekend.

xxx

Korsak arrives at 8.30. He gives her a long look over his glasses and opens his mouth to ask a question Jane does not want to answer; but just her luck, Maura comes to the rescue. Or more precisely, a text from the ME office to all detectives investigating the case saves her.

 _Re: BPD Case HCS#18-0356 Matthew Parr. Found probable match for palm print. Please contact Dr. Isles' office at earliest convenience_.

It is Korsak that reads it first. "Hey, Jane, seems like we have a match for the Parr case hand prints. Susie just send a text message about it."

Jane is halfway to the elevator, struggling to get her long limbs into her rumpled jacket, before she realises Korsak is not following.

No way  _in hell_  she is going down on her own.

Not when she is feeling like this.

She knows that her hands are trembling visibly as she rises them to move her hair out of the way and then, to smooth the lapels of her jacket. The left one having developed an attitude and refusing to stay down.

 _Piece of crap suit_.

She knows she should buy better quality clothing.

Knowing is  _not_  doing.

And doesn't that just sum up the story of her life. Maybe she should have it tattooed to her forehead:  _Jane Rizzoli knew better_.

She will have to ask Maura if there is such a thing as terminal stubborn-itis.

Only, she reminds herself,  _Maura is not talking to me_.

For a moment, she is tempted to stuff her hands into her pockets: hide the trembling. Bury the weakness. But,  _no_.

No.

That is something she has forbidden herself to do. A rule Jane cannot afford to break.

She does  _not_ hide her hands.

 _Never_.

"C'mon, Korsak, get moving!"

"What? Aren't  _you_  going? I wanted to grab something to eat downstairs, I haven't had any breakfast yet," he smiles as he pats his ever expanding stomach. "It's no small effort keeping my girly figure, you know?"

"Really?" she frowns as she puts her hands on her hips, "what? Are you afraid you'll starve to death or something?"

Korsak waves a dismissing hand her way and turns towards the files on his desk, so Jane insists, body turning, hand pointing towards the elevator.

"Come along and I promise that I'll buy you the greasiest breakfast in all of Boston after we do this," a pause, then, when she sees that Korsak is not even looking her way, softer, lower, in a voice that is not really hers: "please?"

There must be something in Jane's eyes, in her body posture, in her voice, god knows, maybe in her wild and hardly-combed hair, because suddenly, Korsak  _understands_. He frowns and rises, following Jane.

"You look like hell," he mumbles.

"Gee. Thanks." She gives him a slow smile. " _You_  look a lot slimmer. Say, have you joined a gym?"

xxx

They are still bickering by the time they reach the morgue.

Jane lets Korsak lead the way. It is a good thing he has known these women for so long, because a quick look at the fidgeting ME makes him understand Jane's quiver and rumpled look. Jane, who is now looking at the floor and slightly hiding behind his bulk. He knows why he is here: to do the talking. He sighs loudly.  _What is wrong with these two now?_ _  
_

"Hey, doc. We got a message from your office. You guys identified the prints?"

"Good morning, detectives," Maura's eyes shift towards Jane and then, just as quickly, back to Korsak. "Indeed, we found a probable match."

Maura is wearing her dark scrubs, hair tied up in a ponytail, make-up impeccable.

She is beautiful as ever.

She looks like she has not slept a wink all weekend.

Jane thinks she can spy the shadow of a bruise on her jaw, from the fall she took when Jane was last at her place, but the light down in the morgue is not very good and she does not risk approaching the doctor.

"And?" Korsak asks after a long pause where they all try to surreptitiously gauge each other's mood. "What did you find?"

"Palm prints are not as uniquely identifying as finger prints, but with a statistical confidence of over 90% in terms of accuracy, the markers suggest that the palm print we found on Matthew Parr's glasses belonged to Charles Martin."

A couple of seconds tick by until there is a reaction.

"What? Wait a moment," Jane jumps in. "Charles Martin is dead, Maura. He died  _before_  Matthew Parr."

Maura glances at Jane, but does not make eye contact. Instead she holds up a finger and points at something in the computer screen to their left. Jane cannot distinguish what is being shown from a ten-year old art project. Or from something that could be on display at the MoMA, really.

"We found his body  _before_  we found Matthew Parr's, but I cannot discard, based on the tissue samples we collected from Matthew and the ones that were on file from Charles' case, that they may have died around the same time."

"Are you sure, Maura?" Korsak asks kindly. "We found Charles Martin's body months before we found Matthew's."

"Sure is an imprecise concept. I can tell you the probabilities associated with the confidence intervals for each test. Or what could be considered sufficient proof at a court of law. Charles Martin's case was not handled with the necessary care, I am afraid," she says apologetically, even though it was not her case. "The evidence was not properly preserved. And while, of course, the confidence interval is different than when identifying finger prints, based on the markers, all I can say is that it is very probable that this is Charles Martin's palm print."

"Ok," a pause. "But, how?"

Maura has no answer for that.

xxx

Maura's evidence ties the two cases together in a completely unexpected way. Charles Martin was not alive at the time of Matthew Parr's death, but the evidence places him at the crime scene. His palm print  _is_  on the glasses. Everything indicates that if it was not Charles who threw Matthew's glasses into the pond someone must have planted them there. But why? And how did he end up dead in another pond all across Boston?

Jane and Korsak spend days interviewing the suspects again, going over each piece of evidence, trying to understand what is the link between the two boys. Frankie is still following up on the possibility that they may have played online games together, maybe using their mobile phones, but despite his training, he is no Frost.

It is a long week, and hardly any progress is made.

xxx

On Friday evening Jane is ready to burst at the seams.

She wants to go and see Maura.

She even takes a shower, combs her hair until it is somewhat smooth, puts on some light make-up, and carefully chooses an outfit that will accentuate her best features: a dark button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up to show her tanned forearms, top two buttons undone to display what little cleavage she has, and a couple of faded blue jeans that make her thighs and ass look 'scrumptious,' if she can trust her mother's judgement, anyway.

She ends up grabbing a beer and sitting on the sofa, booted feet on top of the coffee table. Pillow hugged to her stomach.

It is then that she makes the decision that she knows may change everything.

She reads the paperwork.

 _All_  of it.

Page after page.

There are dates, planned tests, hypotheses, proxies, data management concerns. A form with ethical guidelines. A copy of an agreement to all the tests, triple signed and stamped by BPD.

Jane frowns as her eyes scan the document.

Her signature is right there.

Mocking her.

She brings the paper closer, until it almost touches her nose. Her head tilts slightly to the side, her eyes narrowing on the signature, focusing.

Yes.

It is  _hers_.

There can be no denying it.

She cannot remember when, but she  _agreed_  to this shit.

Then again, there are many things she does not recall. Life without Maura, all the years wasted; first with Casey, then back in Boston, they have a strange way of becoming just background noise.

Jane would never claim that she understands physics. But she  _gets_  Einstein. Like totally. That thing about time not being a constant?

 _That_  is what Jane's life has been like these last four years.

The months, the days, the  _minutes_  apart from Maura felt like centuries whilst she was living them, making her life drag like she had turned into that Greek Sisyphus guy Maura told her about once: pushing his boulder up the hill for eternity; but now, in the present, the years past condense into a moment of nothingness. The time when she starved herself of Maura is flexible: it bends into a single point of despair and loneliness.

It is time  _with_  Maura that is rich and meaningful and lived in vivid colours.

Even the pain she felt when she thought everything that happened these past couple of months had been a mind game: It made her feel  _alive._  It made her aware that she had been sleep walking her way without Maura. Just going through the motions. Those few hours when she drove around the empty streets of Boston, the rage she felt, the disappointment, the sorrow, it had all felt more real than all the misery she brought upon Casey and herself by marrying him. It made her divorce feel like the annoyance of a bee sting or of a paper cut, something you can slap a band aid on and forget about.

There is nothing about this mess with Maura that feels like that. She feels like all the band aids that had been holding her insides barely tucked in have finally been stripped off.

And not gently.

It is like that once-in-a-freaking-lifetime-thank-you-ma'am occasion when Maura had convinced her to get a full body wax, Brazilian bikini included: she feels like a bleeding, raw piece of meat, with all her pores disagreeing to the rough treatment they had just been subjected to.

 _Geez_.

She was so blind, so stupid. When she looks back she cannot believe what an idiot she was. The things she had done just to  _be_  with Maura.

How could she not have known herself?

The paperwork even contains a link to an online database where the  _subject_  can see average results of other tested individuals. Jane frowns every time she reads the word subject. She is tempted to log in to the internet and check the website, see evidence that other idiots like her have also been stupid enough to be conned into this, but finally, she just shakes her head, focusing back on the detailed schedule containing the information about the tests.

It is like reading a script of her life, written before she lived it. Or maybe, like a scientific outlay of it written by Susie Chang.

All the details are there, and still, it is so far removed from what Jane actually felt, it reads like she imagines it would feel like to watch a movie of her life in a black and white, mute cinema... She rolls her eyes at the ceiling; with a wild-haired -ditzy- Cher starring in the role of Jane Rizzoli.

_Crap._

She pushes the hair out of her face and takes a long drink.

She needs another beer. Or five.

But she is not going to get drunk on the sofa, certainly not until she reads all the documents, until she figures out what Maura meant when she said that  _she_  had already gone too far.

Jane knows how precise Maura is in everything that she says. How much each word she utters conveys something truthful about who she is, what she thinks and feels.

For years, sarcasm had been her only defence against the most Maura trait of all traits.

How to deal with someone that  _means_  everything she says?

It is frustrating, because the pages in front of her feel like a lie. They cannot capture the feel of Maura's eyelashes fluttering against her neck. The weight of her breasts pressed up against Jane's chest. The fullness in Jane's chest when she had held Maura's hand in hers.

For the first time in her adult life, she is willing to turn her professional skills on herself. She is going to fill in the gaps, read between the lines, put together all the clues, understand for once and for all what Maura feels for her.

And if it is not what she is hoping for, she will take it in the chin like the good old girl she has always been.

And then, she will cry herself to sleep for the rest of her life.

A sigh.

_God. You are such a wimp, Rizzoli._

She turns back to the paperwork before she loses heart.

Fortunately, it does not take long.

The discrepancies between the scheduled tests and what transpired become obvious almost from page one. In particular, the whole night they spent on the sofa is completely missing. Maura was supposed to take her out on a date that day. Jane recalls that is how it had all started, until she got jealous and almost started a fist fight with that sleaze ball that was trying to hit on Maura at the restaurant bar.

"That was all real," she almost shouts at Jo Friday as she jumps off the sofa, startling the poor pooch and making it hide under the arm chair. "Good thing you are not here to protect me, huh?"

She reaches down to give the little dog a kiss as an apology for the scare, "it was real, Jo."

xxx

The knock at the door comes after 9 pm.

Maura is wearing her purple pyjamas and a matching robe. Face clean and ready for bed. She is trying not to give in to her body demands, but she feels like sleeping for the rest of the weekend. Maybe the rest of the year. She knows of extant research published by the American Academy of Sleep Medicine that shows depression is correlated with sleepiness. But as she keeps finding out, knowledge does not always help.

"Jane."

Of course it is Jane.

Nobody else ever visits Maura unannounced.

In truth, nobody else ever visits.

It is one of the things that became obvious when Jane left her life: how truly alone Maura was. How isolated in her Jane-centred bubble. Jane had been a wall of padding surrounding Maura, stopping all of life's harsh hits, and Maura had not even known. Not until it was all gone. It was that emptiness that pushed her to Quantico, to a place where the silence would not be so loud, so oppressive, so impossible to ignore.

"Please, come in." Maura says as she moves towards the kitchen. She tries not to, but she cannot help herself. She sneaks a glance at Jane's long legs, her wild hair and tanned skin. She feels a blush start at the base of her neck, spreading heat towards her limbs and down her spine as her heart picks up speed.

This is what Jane Rizzoli has always done to Maura: breathe life into her.

"I read it." Jane says. No need to explain what she means.

Maura looks away, fidgeting nervously with the belt of her robe.

"The whole thing," Jane explains. "All the tests, all the details."

"Would you like something to drink?" Maura asks, always the polite host.

Even now.

 _Specially_  now.

It is her last standing defence line.

Jane shakes her head and moves closer. Maura takes a small step back. Jane smells of the Boston night, of the flowery shampoo she would never admit using, of something else that is simply Jane. Maura inhales and feels her blush deepen. She has always been helpless against this Jane, the one that takes command, pushes forward and demands Maura pay attention.

"The first thing I noticed was that I gave my consent."

"You did," Maura confirms. She is not looking at Jane.

"The other thing that became obvious were the discrepancies between the scheduled tests and the actual tests."

Maura shrugs one shoulder. "I-, I did my best. But you are right, of course. They were poorly conducted," she reaches to rub her forehead wearily. Maura looks tired, like she has aged this week. "Susie told me I might not be able to conduct them objectively," a bitter smile, "she understood immediately what I failed to see for weeks." She risks a quick look at Jane. "I cannot understand what I was thinking. I should have realized I was not the right person to carry out the experiment," a pause, "what it would do to you. To us."

Jane takes another step closer. Maura wants to retreat, but she has run out of space, her back is already against the kitchen counter. There is hardly a feet of space between them. Maura tries to control her breathing, but she is starting to tremble from Jane's proximity. If Jane moves any closer, her chest will be resting against Maura's heaving breasts.

"I hurt you."

"You did," Jane acknowledges. It is true.

Maura's shoulders drop.

"I am sorry," she husks. There are tears in her voice. "I have made a mess of things, spoilt everything."

"No." Jane breathes. "No, no, no." Her hands reach up, lightly grabbing Maura's shoulders.

It makes Maura flinch. She half-heartedly tries to move sideways, away from Jane, but Jane's hold gets firmer, her hands sliding down and grabbing Maura's upper arms, thumbs rubbing slow circles. Petting. Calming.

"Maura, look at me?" Jane pleads. Voice gentle.

 _Please, don't run anymore, Maura._ She thinks, and somehow, the thought centres her. It makes her feel stronger. Taller. She has literally run marathons for this woman. And now, in the moment, she  _knows_. There is no place Maura can run that she will not follow.

There is a heat starting in Jane's chest. A pulse. A burn created by the push of words that will not be repressed any longer.

"This is not on you, honey. I'm the one that messed everything up to start with."

Maura blinks.

_Honey._

It makes her aware of how desperately she wants to be Jane's everything. Her friend. Her lover. Her geeky know-it-all  _honey_.

"Jane."

"No. Let me. It's my turn."

They are speaking in whispers. This moment is too precious. Too important. Too  _private._

Jane wants to lay it all out. To explain how life without Maura is meaningless. How lonely she had been when she was with Casey. How quinoa is her favourite dish if Maura is cooking. How the shadow of Maura's nipples visible through her purple pyjamas does more for her than all the sex she ever had with meaningless others through the years.

It may take weeks to explain.

Perhaps a lifetime.

Jane knows there is only one thing she needs to say. For both their sakes.

Maura rises her eyes, making eye contact for a moment before lowering them again. There is a tear caught in one of her long lashes. Jane watches as Maura blinks, and the tear succumbs to gravity, slowly marking Maura's cheek on its way towards her chin.

Jane lowers her face and catches it with her lips, giving Maura a soft kiss. Then another, close to the bruise that is still visible on Maura's face, from when she fainted.

Jane feels Maura quiver against her. They are standing so close Jane can hear Maura's breathing, the small sob that escapes her lips when Jane kisses her cheek a second time.

This is what Jane wants to have as her job description. She wants to catch all of Maura's tears before they fall. And if that makes her a sappy loser, whoever has a problem with it can take it up with Jane if they dare.

"Maura."

And she wants to say her name a thousand times. Maura, Maura,  _Maura_. There was always the risk that it would become a benediction.

"I'm the one who's sorry. Sorry that it took me so long to know myself," Jane says. "I'm sorry for all the years we wasted," a frustrated breath. "Jesus, I was such a coward."

"You are the bravest person I know," Maura says, voice barely above a whisper, eyes still down.

"Hey, look at me?"

Jane pleads again, as she slides her hands up, until they are caressing Maura's neck, her cheeks.

"Maura."

Maura finally looks up. There is a storm passing behind her eyes. Jane can see fear, and hope, and pain, and maybe love, and _I am sorry Jane_.

Jane gives her a lopsided smile, moves her eyes quickly to the side like she is dismissing something, shaking it off. Then, she takes a deep breath and makes eye contact again, makes sure Maura is  _looking._

"I love you."

Her voice breaks on the last word. The words scratching Jane's throat on the way out. Not because it hurts to say them, but because they have such deep hooks into her chest.

"I always have, Maura."

Then, she dips her head until her nose bumps against Maura's. She makes a small sound in her throat, half amusement, half annoyance. She is going to get this  _right_. God forbid. "Lean a bit," she breathes as she pushes slightly with her nose, until Maura tilts her head up and to the side, and Jane connects their lips in the softest kiss she has ever given.

Jane's mind goes blank at the touch.

 _This_.

This is right.

This is what she wants more than anything in life.

When she feels Maura reach around to hold her waist, arms tentatively snaking around her back and moving up, up, up to tangle in her unruly hair, Jane feels her stomach drop to her feet, with relief, with happiness, with  _Oh God she's kissing me back_  and just a touch of  _thank Jesus I combed that bird's nest this evening_.

She takes the final step, completely closing the gap between them, pulling Maura flush against her.

If one of them whimpers, Jane will never admit it may have been her.

xxx


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER X

It is Jane who breaks the kiss, when she can no longer ignore the annoying vibration of her mobile phone.

She reaches to answer it with one hand, not letting go of Maura, who immediately leans against her as she tries to catch her breath, face hidden in the curve of Jane's neck and shoulder, breathing her in.

Just as she answers, she feels Maura kiss her neck.

"Rizzoli," she says after clearing her throat, but her voice comes out so high that it is a wonder Korsak recognises her.

Whatever it is, Maura can tell from the tensing of Jane's arm around her: it is not good news.

"Ok, I'm on my way."

Jane hangs up and returns the phone to her back pocket.

_Crap._

Freaking Korsak and his freaking timing.  _Doesn't he have a life? Youtube videos of cute puppies to catch up on?_

"Maura," she breathes almost into the shell of Maura's ear as she rubs their cheeks together. They are standing pressed from thigh to chest, half leaning against the kitchen island. A sudden image floods Jane's senses. She could grab Maura's hips; push her up to sit on the counter, and press herself between Maura's legs. The image is so vivid it sends a hot flush through her limbs, making her dizzy for a second.  _Geez Rizzoli, hold your horses,_  she thinks, but she involuntary squeezes Maura a bit tighter than she should.

Maura makes a noise that is a question and a whimper and a squeak all in one.

"Sorry," Jane murmurs as she relaxes her grip somewhat. "There's been a break in one of the older cases," she regrets, voice tentative. "They are bringing in a suspect to interrogate just now. I have to go."

With effort, and still half-dazed, Maura leans back; her body no longer limp against Jane's. Jane also steps back. Her hands hold Maura's upper arms, helping her to get her balance back.

Maura nods. "Of course, you have a job to do."

She tries to straighten her robe and hair with suddenly clumsy fingers, eyes level with Jane's neck. With Jane on her boots and Maura out of her every day heels, Jane is almost a head taller. Maura likes the height difference. Not that she would tell Jane. She has enough leverage as it is. She can see Jane's slightly elevated heart rate, as the blood pulses against the fine skin of her throat.

Maura's own pulse is much quicker.

And she is not entirely sure if she  _understands_  the meaning of this moment. How Jane's visit and declaration fit into the puzzle of their lives. But she knows Jane's words have changed her forever. Something in her chest blooms and expands, lifting her, making her weightless. She grabs onto Jane's arms, the feeling of lightness so strong that she thinks she might fly up to the ceiling without Jane to keep her anchored. A soothing wave spreads through her limbs, calming all her pains, drowning all her doubts. And so, maybe, for once in her life, the thirst for knowledge and certainty can be quenched with just a part of the full information set.

Jane says she loves her.

And Maura,  _god_ , Maura loves her back.

Maura knows that detachment is needed to be a no-nonsense scientist. Whilst subjective appraisal of events may have its place in social sciences (although do not get Maura started on her views on Critical Perspectives research), it has no place in Maura's lab. Everything there is assessed objectively, because Dr. Maura Isles only deals in facts. She  _is_  the best in her field, and she  _has_  a natural affinity for it but, of course, detachment comes at a price. She knows that she has nurtured herself into the person she is and that, at 42, she is as much a product of genetics and upbringing as she is of her own creation.

If she is part human, part cyborg, she has herself to blame.

And truthfully, most of her concious brain is dominated by Maura the scientist, who enjoys  _watching_  life more than  _living_  it. It is scientist Maura who catalogues and observes herself and those around her as they go through life.

But there is more to Maura. There has always been. There is also teenage Maura, who sometimes reads great Russian tragedies and cries at the misfortunes of their protagonists, who gets excited about buying shoes, doing cool experiments in the lab with Susie, or trying to get Jane to let her braid her long locks. It is teenage Maura who wants a nickname, and maybe a tattoo, as well. She is the one that cries when Maura does not fit in, but she is also the one that cries tears of joy when Jane remembers her birthday. Teenage Maura only deals in feelings.

And feelings hurt. She has spent the last four years of her life trying to push teenage Maura to the back of her mind, so it is a surprise to see her emerge now and realise that somehow, that forever repressed version of herself has managed to hibernate and survive.

Teenage Maura wonders if she is too old to go around the house jumping up and down, or to draw hearts around Jane's name in all of her technical notes, because that is how ridiculously giddy she feels right now.

 _My god_.

Jane says she loves  _her_.

She bites her lip and worries at her reaction to Jane's presence, to her kisses and words, trying to catalogue all the hormones that are making her feel this way.  _It is just a kiss, Maura,_  scientist Maura tries to convince teenage Maura.

She regards Jane as they stand facing each other and grabs Jane's arms a bit tighter.

How can kissing Jane ever be  _just_  a kiss?

"I don't want to go, Maura."

 _Please understand?_ Jane pleads, her brown eyes wide open, staring straight at Maura, bending at the knee slightly to catch Maura's eye when she momentarily tries to hide from the bluntness in Jane's eyes.

_This._

This is part of the puzzle; Maura knows. A bit of what will eventually make or break them. Jane will  _always_  run to the job. It is who she is. What she does. Duty before-, well, before it all, really. Nobody before has ever understood that about her. Least of all, Casey.

Maura does.

She knows family comes first with Jane. And also, that Jane has a job to do that takes priority. It is easy for Maura's logical mind to understand both things can be true.

There are no flawed syllogisms when it comes to Jane and Maura.

"Can I come back later?"

"I-, I would like that very much, Jane." Maura says, almost formally. She is too thrown, too out of her element, in too much inner turmoil, and so, for a moment, she can only outwardly be what years of strict education have instilled into her very core: the perfect host, the well-educated, polite socialite.

But she soon breaks out of it.

She starts the next kiss, by the door, grabbing onto Jane, "I love you, too," she smiles, and then, she pushes Jane away, into the night.

Jane can only stand on rubber knees and feet suddenly made of lead and nod when Maura makes her final request, "come back no matter what time?"

xxx

It is the worst interrogation of Jane's life. Not even when she was a complete rookie did she do this badly.

Korsak finally puts an end to it after Jane smiles inanely and inappropriately says "really? that's lovely," for the second time.

"I don't know what's wrong with you, Rizzoli," he barks as he yanks her from the interrogation room, "but you need to get your head out of your ass."

Jane nods. "Nothing is wrong, but you're right, I'm not much help right now. Can you take care of this?"

"Sure, go home. I don't think that clown knows anything about the O'Day case, anyway." A long sigh, "I'm getting too old for this."

"Nah, you're just annoyed you're missing an episode of Worst Hoarders of America," she jokes as she puts on her jacket.

"There is no such a show."

"Which proves my point."

"You have a point?"

"That you'd totally watch that crap if it was on!" she says with a laugh as she moves towards the door.

It is almost 11.30 pm by the time Jane hits the street. She curses under her breath at the late hour and rushes to the car, hoping Maura will still be awake, but something catches her eye on her way down the stairs. A movement, a shadow in the corner of her eye.

Someone is seated in one of the benches opposite the station. Someone she recognises.

"Mrs. Parr?"

She approaches the woman slowly. She can tell she has startled her.

"Detective..."

"Detective Rizzoli, ma'am," Jane nods. "Can I ask you what are you doing here?"

"Oh, I was waiting to see if there was any news," she says.

Jane frowns, she knows that the tragedy of losing a child pushes some people over the edge.

"It's really late, Mrs. Parr. I think it's best if you go home. Please come with me and we'll call someone to come pick you up," Jane reaches gently for the other woman, helping her to her feet.

"What time is it?"

"It's almost midnight."

Mrs. Parr blinks. "Already? how strange, I must have lost track of time. I came to bring Matt his glasses," she says as she digs through her purse. "He cannot see without them."

Now it is Jane who blinks. She tries to be both firm and kind. "Mrs. Parr, Matthew is dead. He doesn't need the glasses."

"No, no," she presses the glasses box into Jane's hand. "He can't see without them, you know? We made him a new pair just before he disappeared because he lost the other ones," she smiles. "You know how quickly children break their glasses, and he really likes these ones, so we ordered two identical ones."

"Mrs. Parr, please come with me," Jane urges, a bit of desperation creeping into her voice, but when the other woman insists, she takes the glasses box and pockets it.

"Hey, Jenkins," Jane greets the police officer at the front desk.

"Rizzoli, you forget something?"

"No. Listen, this is Mrs. Parr. She is disoriented and not feeling well, can you look up her home number? It'll be on file."

xxx

It is nearly 1 am by the time Jane makes it back to Maura's. She tries the door, and unsurprisingly, finds it open.

"Maura," she whines. The light is on and Maura is on the sofa. "How many times have I told you to close the door?"

Maura does not answer.

When Jane approaches, she notices that Maura has fallen asleep on the sofa.

She moves closer, taking off her jacket and leaving Matthew's glasses on top of the pile of magazines that sits on the coffee table, then, she takes a seat next to Maura and carefully reaches to rub her shoulder.

"Hey."

Maura makes a sleepy sound, but starts to blink her eyes open. "Hi, Jane."

"You fell asleep on the sofa."

"Sorry, I was waiting for you, but I must have nodded off."

"It's ok, if you're tired, we can talk tomorrow," Jane says and stands up, offering Maura a hand to help her.

Maura grabs her hand but does not let go when she is standing. She simply turns and starts walking towards her bedroom, Jane in tow.

It is not awkward, just  _new_.

Maura gives her some pyjamas to wear and they slip into bed together. Jane has a side on Maura's bed. She has had it since that very first time they shared a bed when Jane was afraid of Hoyt and came looking for Maura.

The only difference is that when Maura turns off the light, she rolls left instead of right.

Into Jane's arms.

xxx

When Jane wakes up, she is alone in bed. She looks at the bedside clock. It is 10.30 am. She cannot remember the last time she slept this late on a Saturday morning. She feels rested. Happy. Calm. She hears movement coming from the kitchen downstairs, the smell of freshly made coffee assaulting her senses. She is hungry.

"Hey," she croaks as she enters the kitchen. Her voice rough from sleep.

"Good morning, Jane," Maura smiles, "did you sleep well?"

"I did, you?"

"I only got up half an hour ago. I try never to stay in bed longer than 8 hours. I recently reviewed a paper for the Journal of Sleep Disorders that provided evidence that oversleeping can be linked to obesity and diabetes."

Jane looks down at herself and grabs at the non-existent fat on her stomach. "Are you trying to tell me something about my love handles?"

"Jane," she frowns. "Of course not." She brightens as she has an idea. "We should go for a run. Grab some brunch together? I know a lovely place in Church Street that serves a really tasty feta toast with tapenade, tomatoes, and herbs that I think you may like."

"Ugh, Maura, I just woke up."

Maura's shoulders drop as she looks away.

Jane sighs. "Can I at least have some coffee first?"

Maura gives her a bright smile and hands her a coffee. "It's semi-decaf. Let me go and get ready for our run."

Jane only stares after her. It seems that Maura does not want to talk.

She shrugs. That is fine with her. They can talk whenever Maura is ready.

She takes a tentative sip. "Not bad," then, she suspiciously looks around. No point in Maura knowing she  _might_  like semi-decaf coffee, right?

_Right._

What follows is one of the nicest days Jane can remember. They first go to Jane's apartment to get some clothes, with Maura nonchalantly asking Jane to bring enough to last her the whole weekend. Then, they go for a run, a late lunch and to get some groceries Maura needs to prepare dinner. By the time they make it back it is almost time for dinner.

They manage to stay off heavy topics of conversation all day. Jane worries that she should be worrying more about it, but she is surprisingly fine with it. Maura loves her. All the other pieces will fall into place eventually.

After dinner, Jane moves to the stereo.

"Let's dance."

Maura blinks.

"What?"

"Let's dance," she repeats, as if Maura had not heard her the first time.

Jane would not admit to it, but this is part of a daydream she has had for almost ten years. Coming home to Maura, kissing her hello, watching sports centre after Maura banishes her from the kitchen. Then, as the evening progresses, thoroughly enjoy a healthy dinner with Maura, whilst -of course-, whining about the amount of vegetables she manages to sneak into Jane's plate. Then, later still, on days when she is really lucky, dancing to soft music before bed. Cheek to cheek.

She has an embarrassingly long list of songs she wants Maura to dance to with her.

As she grabs Maura's hand and moves them to stand by the sofa, the all classics radio station turns to Jimmy Fontana's 'Il Mondo,' a song that definitely makes Jane's list. In fact, she loves it. One of her earliest memories of Nana Rizzoli is the matriarch knitting by the radio, listening to this very song.

They just sway together to the music, with Jane singing along the words that she remembers. On the third 'Il Mondo' Jane unexpectedly and very energetically spins Maura and almost throws her to the floor. They laugh as the song finishes, hugging each other, standing in middle of Maura's living room.

"That was fun," Maura laughs, "we should dance m-,"

Jane's kiss interrupts her.

xxx

"Good morning, Maura! Isn't it a lovely Sunday? I have freshly squeezed orange jui-," Angela barges into the room without knocking and only stops when she notices Maura is not alone in bed. "Jane! Get off Maura, you must be crushing her to death!"

Jane is sprawled over Maura, one of her long legs thrown over both of Maura's, head resting on her chest.

"Wha-," she mumbles still half-asleep, "five more minutes, Ma."

She tries to furrow deeper into the bed, her hand absently moving to fluff the pillow.

There is something wrong with it.

"Jane Clementine Rizzoli! You let go of Maura's breast and get off the bed right this minute," Angela loudly demands as she slaps Jane's backside.

"Ow, Ma," Jane complains, but she rolls away from Maura, not even her tanned features hiding the bright blush that floods her cheeks. "sorry, Maura," she says as she covers her face with a pillow.

A real one this time.

"It's ok, Angela. I did not mind what Jane was doing," a smile. "Indeed, it was quite stimulating."

"Oh, god," Jane groans in embarrasment from under the pillow. "Ma, can you leave us so we can get up?"

"Well, if you two closed the door when you were going to be doing," Angela gestures furiously, " _things,_  I would not barge in here unannounced and embarrass you!"

"Things?" Maura asks, "oh! You mean sex! Don't worry, Angela. Jane and I have not been intimate yet."

"Maura!" Jane jumps on Maura, covering her face with the pillow she was holding. "Enough with the details," she hisses as Maura just laughs, reaching around and trying to discover Jane's ticklish spots to get her to move off her.

"Ma, please?" Jane pleads.

"Fine, fine," Angela huffs as she leaves. "I know when I'm not wanted."

Once she is sure Angela is gone, Jane pushes the pillow away, but doesn't move her body. She hovers over Maura, her elbows on both sides of her. Maura gives her a wicked grin and reaches for Jane's hips, bringing them down as she moves her own hips up, tangling their legs together and sending a jolt of pure fire through Jane's centre.

Jane only groans and lowers her face to give Maura a good morning kiss. She pulls away before things can get really heated, though.

"You cannot do this to me now, Maura," she says. "You know perfectly well that my mother is just outside," she turns her face towards the door and loudly adds, "with her ear pressed to the door!"

"I'm not!" Angela shouts from outside, to Jane's groan and Maura's giggles.

xxx

Much later, after spending the day with Angela and the rest of the Rizzoli family, when everyone leaves, they sit on the sofa, quietly enjoying each other's company, with Jane practically on Maura's lap, the small woman having pulled her down with her as she sat down, and having yet to let go of her charge.

For once, it is Jane who starts the conversation.

"We should talk."

Maura only nods and waits, but Jane does not say anything else.

Maura rolls her eyes at the ceiling. "You mean  _I_  should talk?"

"You are the one that talks in this-," a pause, and then softer, almost embarrassed, "in this relationship."

Maura smiles, "I am."

She takes a long breath and tries to compose her thoughts.

"You left me behind, Jane," Maura whispers. "When you married. It was awful.  _Awful_. Not you! You looked beautiful," she reassures. "But, I-, I didn't know-, I-, what was I-," she takes another breath. "And so I run to Quantico. I had a good life there." She nods. "No complications," another pause. "It was even worse, Jane. I missed you so much. I guess I lost touch with reality."

"Why did you come back? I had lost hope that you ever would."

Maura shakes her head. "Can you believe I don't know? I think my lizard brain activated lower brain activity cells that-,"

"Maura."

She tries to explain it in simpler terms, "it is as if my thoughts were doing secret things, making decisions without my conscious agreement," she finally says. "For my own good, obviously."

"I was so happy when my mother called to tell me you had just shown up at her doorstep with twenty tons of luggage."

"It was only eight suitcases, a laptop case and a roll-on with my cosmetics and toiletries, Jane," she defends. "I shipped most of my belongings through FedEx, but I had to carry the essentials with me."

"Your  _essentials_ are triple the amount of stuff in my whole closet, Maura."

Maura lifts her eyebrows. "Well, it is not my fault that you think having two sets of four identical suits and twelve t-shirts constitutes a professional wardrobe."

Jane moves closer to give her a quick kiss, "you know my ass looks amazing in those suit pants."

"I do like how you dress, Jane, but the point is, you hurt me, and then, I hurt you with the DHS study," she breathes. "I swear I did not do it on purpose, but maybe there is something in me that is wicked, something I cannot fight that is slowly showing its face."

"Hey," Jane has heard these doubts before. She knows that Maura's genetics haunt her. She does not mention Paddy, but she knows Maura is thinking about him. "You would not hurt a fly on purpose, Maura."

Maura looks away.

Jane kisses her cheek. "Maura, I'm not upset. Yeah, your study sucked. I'm not going to say otherwise."

Maura draws a breath to answer.

"Wait," Jane asks. "It sucked, but it brought us here. I'm quite happy about it overall."

"You are?"

Jane only kisses her again to show her how all right she is with things.

"I  _do_  love you, Jane."

"I know," Jane answers.

Maura frowns.

"If you are trying to do that Star Wars thing, I am not going to allow it in this house," Maura threatens.

Jane just laughs. "I'm tall, dark and handsome, just like Han Solo."

"Well, I am no princess Lia."

"Leia."

"Whatever, did you see what they did to the hair of that poor girl in that movie? And that white tunic! Why, I would never wear that-,"

"I love you, too," Jane interrupts.

And as she says it, she looks at Maura with the same look that only now Maura realises has always been on Jane's eyes when she looks at her.

For a moment it is hard to breathe.

"Jane," she says. "I need you to forgive me."

"No, no, there is no need."

"Please?"

Jane frowns. "Ok, but only if you forgive me too."

"But you didn't do anything!"

Jane crosses her arms and rises an eyebrow.

Maura regards her in silence for a long time. "Of course you are forgiven," she finally says, voice rough with emotion, "it is liquid under the bridge."

Jane barks out a laugh at that. "Water, Maura."

"What?" Maura blinks at her, uncomprehending. "Are you thirsty? I can get you something to drink."

"The saying; it's water under the bridge." Jane says quietly, kindly.

"Oh," Maura nods. "It is water under the bridge, then," she smiles a bit.

"I forgive you, too." Jane says and leans back into the sofa, pulling Maura along with her.

They lie in silence for a while, Jane's hands starting to wander.  _God_  she wants Maura to touch her _._  She hopes Maura will not make her wait long.

"We need rules," Maura suddenly says as she pushes up slightly so that she is resting more fully on top of Jane.

Jane blinks.

"But, Maura, why-," a look at Maura stops her. Maura's eyebrows are up and her lips are pressed down into a firm line. That is never a good sign. Jane knows what may follow if she resists, Maura will sit back, hold her thumb and forefinger together, in the universal Maura sign of 'I am right and you will abide by what I am about to say,' and list an interminable number of reasons as to why they need rules.

Jane nods emphatically. Her arms tightening around Maura to prevent her from moving away. "Right. Rules." A couple of curls bounce around. "Let's hear 'em."

"No more lies."

"I didn't-, well, sure, I-, but you-," Jane stops. "No more."

Maura smiles and lowers her head, pressing her forehead against Jane's throat, resting her cheek on her chest, listening to Jane's heart. It might just be Maura's new favourite sound.

"There has to be a rule about kissing," Jane demands.

"What?"

"I want a kiss every morning when we first see each other, and another in the evenings when we-," Jane is interrupted by a soft kiss to her lips.

"We don't need a rule for that, Jane. You can kiss me whenever you want. When we are alone, like this, you can kiss me  _wherever_  you want," and this, she says with a bit of a wink and the sauciness of the old Maura.

"What took you so long on Friday at the office?" Maura asks. "I never asked you."

Jane tells Maura the story of finding Mrs. Parr waiting outside with her son's glasses. She reaches with a long arm to get the glasses box from where she left it on Friday night. "She told me she had an identical pair at home and wanted to bring them to Matthew," a sigh, "because he cannot see without them."

"Oh," Maura breathes as she reaches for the box and opens it. "Poor woman."

Then, she rises her head and shows Jane the contents of the box.

"But, Jane, these glasses are  _red_."

xxx


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER XI

When Maura was 12, during her second year at the elite, all-girls, private school she chose for herself, she almost drowned.

Léa Moreau, her posh French roommate, accidentally pushed her into the pool, and Maura, with all her early knowledge of physics and chemistry and mathematics, could only think of upward buoyant force, Archimedes' principle, and how bright he must had been, as she dropped and dropped and dropped to the bottom of the deep pool, partly terrified, but mostly, fascinated by her body reactions; trying to calculate the volume of water being displaced and just how long she would be able to contain her breath before her body's natural impulse to breath would kick in and, inexorably, cause her to drown.

Years later, Maura calculated that she had been 4 to 7 seconds away from drowning.

Most other children would have been traumatized by the experience.

Young Maura had laid by the pool, breathing large gulps of air, blood pumping and body shaking like a leaf as she rested there, feeling the autumn sun on her face, impervious to the panicking adults around her or the hysterical crying of Léa.

She had smiled.

It was the most glorious, exhilarating feeling.

Surviving.

 _Living_.

xxx

On Monday morning, Jane is on the phone with Mrs. Parr before 9 am.

As Maura explained to Jane, Matthew would have needed new prescription glasses as soon as he lost the old ones. Mr. and Mrs. Parr probably bought the new ones on the very same day he lost the old ones.

As usual, Maura is right.

It gives them a precise time and date for Charles Martin's death.

It is a slow couple of weeks, but they all know they are finally on the right track.

Whilst they wait for the results from the triangulation of mobile phone registers, Frankie gets the first real piece of damning evidence.

"We cracked it!" he smiles as he walks towards Jane and hands her a file, "look. Who's king of the office?"

Jane rolls her eyes at her brother's enthusiasm. "Not you, that's for sure. What am I looking at?"

"Charles Martin and Matthew Parr played Farm Zombie Apocalypse together on line."

"They played what?"

"It's a mobile phone game, like that Candy Crush thing you play?"

"I do  _not_  play Candy Crush," she hisses. "Ma installed it when she borrowed my phone. I just haven't had the time to un-install it yet."

"Sure. That's why you're all the time begging Maura to pass screens for you," Frankie teases, "but, anyway, this Zombie thing is very popular in the East Coast right now. Particularly with young boys. I talked to the guy who created it, and according to the data they sent us, it's played mostly by boys aged between 6 and 10."

"It's rather simple, really. All you have to do is touch the screen when you see a zombie," he shows his phone to Jane. "and look! whoa! different body parts explode when you-,"

"Frankie."

"Hey, you have to admit it's kinda cool."

Jane tilts her head and crosses her arms as she regards her brother, "it's for children aged 6."

He pouts and puts the phone away, shrugging, "you can rack up a lot of points if you team up with others. Seems like both Charles and Matthew were very good at killing zombies together."

"Were they?"

"Yeah, look at this," he passes her another file. "The week before he died Charles and Matthew were topping the online rankings together."

Jane scans the page and smiles at Frankie, "look at number two."

"James and Matthew Parr," he nods.

"Good job, Frankie." She pats his arm and gives him a real smile.

"Hey, Jane," Korsak smiles at them both as he joins them, "Frankie."

"Hey, Korsak," Jane answers. "Frankie found the link between the boys," she says as she passes him the files.

"That's great, Frankie. I have good news as well. We had a couple of matches from the phone triangulation, it seems both of the Parr brothers were in the area." He says as he passes Jane a copy of the mobile phone registers. "James made a number of calls to his mother, Samantha Parr, Mr. Parr's first wife," he points at a phone number in the file. "Her mobile phone register also places her in the area."

"Bring James and Samantha Parr in," Jane says to Frankie. "They've got some explaining to do."

xxx

The next week passes by faster, with new pieces of evidence appearing nearly every day. James Parr refuses to speak, but now that they have a date and time, they can put together new evidence from a number of security cameras in the area. In one of the tapes that they show to James on Friday, the images clearly show the Parr half-brothers with Charles Martin on the day he was murdered, and then, two hours later, a very nervous Samantha Parr arriving by car, picking up both boys, Charles Martin no longer with them.

The video also shows Samantha going back later that night, parking the car in the same spot and coming back to the car almost an hour later.

James keeps silent even after watching the video, but Samantha soon confesses. The boys killed Charles Martin so they could rise to number 1 in the Farm Zombie Apocalypse game. Samantha went back for Matthew's glasses when she learnt he had lost them in the struggle with Charles. She kept them as proof that it was Matthew who killed Charles, and not James, her legitimate son.

Samantha also confesses to killing Matthew.

She says as time passed and nobody found out about Charles, she thought she could do the same to Matthew. Get rid of the boy who was going to steal half of her children's money eventually, and maybe, get her husband back. She had originally wanted to drown him, but he fell down as he was running away from her, hit his head and was dead instantly. She thought it was God finally listening to her prayers, getting rid of the evil spawn that her husband had with that  _other_  woman. She had thrown the glasses into the pond, getting rid of all the evidence.

Maura joins Jane, Frankie and Korsak downstairs, to watch the mother and son be escorted away.

They are all relieved to have  _finally_  closed both cases.

"C'mon, let's grab a beer to celebrate," Korsak suggests, as he punches Frankie's arm.

"We wouldn't have figured it out without you, Maura," Jane says as she opens the door for Maura, giving her a gentle smile, "thanks."

Maura returns the smile and lets her hand linger on Jane's arm as she exits the building. "I love working with you, Jane."

xxx

That night, Jane has dinner with Maura, like every night in the last fortnight. She has only been back to her apartment to pick some more of her belongings, as she needs them. Not a single item has made the trip back. She is not sure how, and they have not really talked about it, but she feels like she has moved in with Maura.

 _For good_.

After dinner, they sit on the sofa, pressed together under the blanket. Maura's hand settles on Jane's thigh, much higher than it is friendly. She touches Jane lightly whilst they watch the news together. Jane tries to follow what is being said, but ninety percent of her brain is focusing on the way Maura's fingers feel against her thigh, and the other ten percent in refraining from grabbing Maura's hand and pushing it just a couple of inches higher, where she needs it.

By the time the program is over and they move towards the bedroom, Jane is almost thrumming with arousal.

They have been in a certain impasse these last couple of weeks, with Jane working hard to close the cases.

There has been a lot of kissing, hugging and light touching, but nothing more. Jane feels like they have gone from friends to old married couple in the space of these weeks, skipping the middle bit.

She desperately  _wants_  the middle bit.

 _What is the equivalent to having blue balls for women?_  Jane wants to know, because she is having a bad case of it.

The ironic thing is that she was never really all that interested in sex, but now, well, now it is  _all_  that she can think about.

She even had a wet dream on Tuesday.

About Maura.

She shakes her head.  _Of course it was about Maura_.

"Maura, we should talk," she says as they get ready for bed, "about," her voice gets progressively lower, "you know," until she whispers, "us."

She moves her hand between Maura and herself, making a vague gesture. Then, she takes off her t-shirt and walks to the bathroom. She throws the t-shirt into the laundry basket with a bit more force than is absolutely necessary. But she is frustrated and it is starting to get the best of her. She does not bother covering herself. The time to feel self-concious around Maura came and went a long time ago.

Maura frowns as she starts to undress. "What about us?"

Jane comes back into the bedroom, wearing only a white bra and her pants.

"You know," she hisses as she gestures somewhat wildly, "us!"

Maura stares for a long moment.

"Jane, you need to be more specific."

"Well, you know," she waves her hand again and then, indicates the bed, "us."

"Oh!" Maura smiles, "you mean sex!"

"Yes!" Jane almost shouts as she reaches to undo her belt, taking off her pants with jerky movements. Maybe she  _is_  the impatient 4 year old Maura sometimes accuses her of being.

"What about it?" Maura asks, voice curious. "And why do both you and your mother think this" she gestures with her hands, imitating Jane, "means sex? Is this some obscure Italian hand gesture? Perhaps a regional variation? When we first started working together, I did quite a bit of reading on Italian body gestures and expressions, but I cannot recall these particular-,"

"Maura," Jane whines. She feels decidedly un-sexy. She is standing in the middle of the bedroom in just her underwear and Maura is not even really  _looking_. She looks down at herself. Maybe it is her fault. This bra and panties are not all that alluring. They don't even match.

Maura only gives her a blank look, reaching up to delicately remove her earrings.

"I've never, you know," more vague gestures, "with a woman."

She stops when she realises Maura is looking at her hands, as if she is trying to logically put together a new hand language.

 _God this conservation is exhausting,_ Jane thinks, but she needs to talk this out. "Maura, up here?" She points at herself. "I'm standing here half-naked and-, and you-," she starts to stammer and has to shallow as Maura removes her dress, and then, reaches around herself to take off her bra.

Jane cannot fail to observe that her bra and panties  _do_  match.

"I-, I feel like we've been dating for years, and you, you keep touching me, Maura. And, and- look at you!" Jane extends both arms, palms up, pointing towards Maura's naked chest, eyes slightly bulging as she ogles Maura's freckled breasts.

"Christ. Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" she rubs her forehead in frustration, pushing her hair away.

"Are you even attracted to me?" Jane asks.

And therein lies the problem.

She turns away from Maura, peeling off her bra and moving towards the wardrobe where she keeps the large Boston Sox t-shirt that she uses as her pyjamas.

Her hands shake as she ruffles through the clothing in the drawer, looking for it.  _Where did she put it last night_?

What if Maura only wants friendship? Maybe companionship? What if she just loves working with Jane, living with her, but not  _her_? Not the way Jane loves,  _wants_ , Maura?

"Oh." It is a gasp and a whimper all in one.

Jane feels Maura's own naked front press against her back. The feel of Maura's firm breasts and soft stomach burns the sensitive skin of her back where they press into Jane. Maura reaches around her waist, one hand caressing Jane's stomach and slowly inching upwards until she is cupping a pale breast in her hand, lifting it. The other hand reaches out to grab Jane's hand, removing the t-shirt from suddenly limp fingers, "you don't need that, Jane."

"Oh, god." Jane moans as she feels Maura's hand lightly squeezing her breast, her thumb slowly caressing an already rigid nipple.

She leans back into Maura's body, letting herself be held by strong arms. Maura kisses Jane's shoulder and neck, the hand that is not teasing her nipple travelling up Jane's arm, all the way to her shoulder and then down again, rising goosebumps everywhere it touches.

"Of course I want you, Jane, don't be ridiculous. I just wanted to be sure you would not be uncomfortable if I touched you."

She squeezes Jane's hand for a moment, hugging the taller woman to her more fully.

"You're beautiful," Maura whispers, and Jane can only whimper, overwhelmed by everything she is feeling.

They stand there for a moment, with Maura just hugging Jane from behind, both of them only in the barest of clothing.

It is, quite possibly, the sweetest moment in Jane's life. Also, the most terrifyingly erotic.

It is only a small reprieve. Maura soon lets her hand move  _lower_ , until it touches the edge of Jane's dark blue panties. Jane spreads her stance without thinking, legs opening, hips seeking. She would blush in embarrassment at how wanton she must look, but she is already blushing from her toes to the tips of her ears from desperate arousal.

When Maura lets her fingers move a bit lower, touching Jane over her panties, Jane jerks in her arms, feeling like she may come apart as soon as Maura's fingers move.

"You're wet," Maura whispers into Jane's ear.

If Jane knew herself the way a woman in her forties should, she would already know that hearing Maura talk dirty to her would excite her. As it is, she is shocked to feel the flood of arousal that Maura's words cause.

"Do you realise that wearing wet clothing can cause hypothermia?" Maura whispers in her ear, her mouth moving to kiss Jane's earlobe and suck it into her mouth, teeth gently nipping.

Jane clears her throat, the teasing in Maura's voice giving her a bit of courage, "it's all your fault." She moans as Maura's fingers start a slow, circular motion, "and you're only making it worse," Jane laughs, "take them off?"

Maura takes a step back, bringing Jane with her and making her sit on the bed. She reaches quickly to get rid of what little clothing she is still wearing.

Jane stares, mouth opening at the sight. She does not have the words to make Maura's beauty justice. She can only lean back when Maura grabs her hips, fingers moving under the sides of her panties. "Lift," Maura asks, and as soon as Jane's hips leave the bed, her panties are off and Maura is moving between her legs, hands pressing, spreading her wide open.

"Maura."

"Sssh, let me do this, Jane."

She kisses Jane's quivering stomach, her hipbones and inner thighs, before gently reaching to touch Jane's folds with her fingers, making her groan.

When Maura's tongue finds her, Jane's hips raise from the bed, losing contact.

"Oh, god," she almost sobs, "it's-, it's too much, Maura."

She is too raw. She needs to feel Maura closer, "please, come up here," she whispers as she tugs at Maura until she lies next to her on the bed, the feel of Maura's body pressing against her calming her.

Jane kisses Maura and takes her hand, placing it on her stomach. Maura does not need further directions, she reaches between Jane's legs, letting her fingers caress the swollen flesh there. Almost as soon as she starts to rub Jane's clitoris, Jane comes, quaking and shivering against her. Her whole body trembling in release as she moans Maura's name over and over again.

xxx

They lie in bed afterwards. Jane still having after shocks and Maura quietly kissing her neck and cheek, her hand covering Jane's sex, gently caressing. When Jane finally recovers, she turns towards Maura. Their naked bodies tentatively meet under the covers, pressing together, both of them still a bit shy, marvelling at the feel of the other.

Jane feels Maura tremble against her as she presses closer, a warm, tanned hand reaching around to caress the white soft skin at the small of Maura's back, holding the smaller woman in place as she tries to press herself completely against Maura, her leg pushing and finding room between Maura's thighs, settling against the wet heat of Maura's core.

Their breasts, stomachs and thighs rub together, in a choreography of deep intimacy Jane has never danced to before.

It makes goosebumps rise all over her body as she hugs Maura to her, careful not to crush her.

She pulls back after a moment and opens one eye to look at Maura.

Maura is giving her a bright smile.

It makes Jane blush a bit. "That was amazing, Maura," she kisses her. "I want to make you feel like that, too."

Maura only hums in reply, her hands caressing Jane's hips and back.

"I've never done this before," Jane murmurs as she kisses Maura's neck. She wants to do this  _right_.

"It's not difficult, Jane," Maura assures her. "I'm sure you have experience masturba-"

"Maura!"

"Jane."

"If we're doing this, you're  _not_  saying that word."

Maura frowns. "What do you want me to call it?"

"Nothing! We're  _not_  talking, we're  _doing_!"

Her nose bumps against Maura's, and a deep, joyful, chuckle escapes from her chest, her lips reaching to kiss Maura's nose, her chin and cheek, before giving her a soft kiss on parted lips.

She feels Maura breath into her mouth, her tongue touching Jane's, kissing back.

"It won't matter how you touch me, Jane, only that it's  _you_  touching me." Maura says between kisses. "Feeling you against me as you orgasmed has been an incredible turn on, it's not going to take much."

It is a struggle not to start again. Jane needs to tell Maura that she cannot whisper stuff like that if she does not want Jane's brain to melt and leak out of her ears.

She will tell her  _later_.

Jane's tongue joins Maura's as they kiss again and, completely unconsciously, her hips start rocking against Maura's thigh, a hand reaching lower, to grab a buttock and push their hips more firmly together.

"Oh."

A shuddering sight escapes Jane's lips. There is a terrible pressure already building in the back of her spine, between her legs.

God. It would take so embarrassingly  _little_. She is almost on the edge again, and she has to remind herself that she has to take care of Maura  _first_.

A long exhale leaves her lips as she pulls back with some effort, ending the kiss and pushing her forehead against Maura's, giving herself just enough distance to look into her eyes.

She thought she knew how much Maura meant to her. How much she wanted this. But this feeling, this  _warmth,_ this all-encompassing embrace of the soul and the body.

No, she had  _not_  expected it.

Jane feels herself choke and has to take a few calming breaths before she can talk.

"You're shaking, Maura."

And she is.

There are a number of scientific explanations as to what causes people to shake in situations of great emotional release, and Maura cannot remember any of them. The feel of Jane's lips on her, her arms around her, her lean body against hers, it is too much. It all conspires to wipe Maura's mind clean of any thought other than Jane Jane  _Jane._

She  _knew_  it would be like this with Jane.

And  _this_ , she knows.

She does not need her scientific background to recognise this.

She has lived this moment before.

She is back in France, in a sunny autumn afternoon of her long forgotten childhood.

 _Alive_.

So gloriously, exhilaratingly, alive.

"I was drowning before," she whispers. "I don't know how, Jane, but when I'm with you, I have this feeling that the buoyant force will always equal my weight." She smiles, "I could float on any substance."

Jane only looks at her tenderly, with that expression that is half amusement, half amazement, and resigns herself to only ever understand half of what Maura says, and perhaps a quarter of what she  _means_.

Maura's limbs refuse to stop shaking and she is d _one_  waiting for Jane to get things going. She is feeling quite desperate herself. She reaches around, arms sneaking under Jane's armpits, grabbing onto the woman against her, and turning them both on the bed until she is resting nearly on top of Jane, feeling the delicate bones, the soft skin and quiver in Jane's muscles as she pushes against her until her whole lower body is resting between Jane's legs. She reaches down between her own legs to open the folds of her sex and then, of Jane's sex, adjusting their positions and causing Jane to quiver against her.

She stops for a moment, looking at Jane's eyes, "don't let go, Jane" she pleads as she starts to rock her hips, thrusting into Jane.

Jane arches against her and wonders how a genius like Maura can be so dumb sometimes.

 _They may have to use a crowbar to pry me away,_ she thinks as she reaches with both hands to grab Maura's buttocks, helping her move against her.

She breathes a promise into Maura's ear, "never again."

FIN.


End file.
